


Lying by Omission's Still Lying- Even With Good Reason

by ghostvinyls (jebbyfish)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, haha lets pray for pidge and me mostly, pidge got amnesia and lance is upsetti spaghetti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jebbyfish/pseuds/ghostvinyls
Summary: Pidge comes out of a stasis pod to find the last year and a half of her life completely wiped from her memory.She's trying to put the pieces back together.But there was still an obstacle in the way, and his name was Lance.And he was hiding something from her. Something that must've been pretty important from the way everyone else was acting.But this totally won't deter Pidge from piecing her memories back together. Not when she's the master of hiding important details from people.Obviously.





	1. The Joys of Waking Up with a Headache and Forgetting the People You Love

**Author's Note:**

> "amanda please... go to bed... finish your essay" haha no why would i do that when i can just... write fics for rarepairs... and pretend i'm Totally Cool(tm)  
> i am not responsible 4 any emotions also i'm trying to get back into a writing groove rip me

Her dreams shifted in a kaleidoscope of colors. Black, Yellow, Red, Blue, Green. Voices that pooled and clouded in her mind-- muffled, indiscernible, as if she was hearing them through a door. Chill in her toes, her fingers, digging under her nails. Her lungs were icing over. There was an ache, a throbbing in the back of her head. A beep.

Suddenly, Pidge found herself falling.

She caught herself, with her knees and palms (something she was told not to do, what felt like eons ago.) A hand went up to her face, quickly, to feel the bridge of her nose for a pair of spectacles that didn’t exist in that moment. A deep breath, for good measure, to stop the ice from stealing her lungs and breathe life back into them. Warmth. She touched where her heart should be. Still beating.

She was alive.

She didn’t know why she was so surprised.

Even more surprising was that there was someone(s? plural?) speaking quickly to her, voice(s?) still hard to hear, still so muffled. Her head ached. Her everything ached. Why was she being shout at? Who was shouting at her, anyway?

Steady hands gripped her under her arms and suddenly she was slingshot back into reality at the touch. She kicked, tried to rip her arms away. There was a shout. More shouts. Her name. No, not her name, her persona’s name, the fake name, the person she was pretending to be--

“Katie!”

Like a light in the dark. She remembered to open her eyes.

… And something about the scene in front of her wasn’t quite right.

Katie- _ -Pidge _ Holt--  _ Gunderson  _ was a smart girl. And she knew when things weren’t what they were supposed to be almost immediately. She could pull out a single strand of bad code from a program within seconds of scrutinizing for the problem. She knew when one of the teachers at the Garrison had made a small flub in their calculations in math, and she was quick to pipe up and correct them.

The analytical part, the science part, the parts that made the most sense to her were easy to fix. Simple. Almost too simple, she would sometimes think.

But math and science weren’t going to help her here.

Not when she wasn’t in the Garrison.

Not when six faces were staring at her expectantly and she only recognized two of them.

Not when one of those familiar faces called her by her real name, again, blue eyes wide and full of concern and something else she couldn’t quite figure out.

She inhaled, exhaled. Tremors forming in her hands. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she knew she wasn’t sad, but just frustrated. Infuriated. All directed at herself because she had no idea what the hell was going on.

“I need my glasses,” Pidge croaked out, finally, and she was shocked at the sound of her own voice. Like it was coming from someone that wasn’t her.

There was a tall, admittedly handsome guy with streaks of white in his hair, a scar on his face, a robotic arm-- he was holding out the rounded frames of her false-prescription lenses out to her. She took them from the stranger, and she scrutinized his face for a moment. She recognized him.

_ But it couldn’t be him, right? _

_ He can’t be standing here if Dad and Matt aren’t, either. _

_ Right? _

She chalked it up to coincidence, hooking the frames across her face, despite not needing them to see. Pidge let her shoulders roll back, and she realized for the first time how… not clothed she was. She was wearing some white suit, free of imperfections, and she realized with horror that she could see the slightest curve in her chest, and her eyes shot up to meet Hunk and Lance’s, who were waiting for her to say something else, so expectantly.

The words she said next, none of the crew expected.

“I didn’t mean for you guys to find out. Ever.”

Pidge almost forgot the beautiful girl in front of her, whose gaze shifted from worry to confusion. She ran a hand through silvery curls, outstretching another to Pidge.

“Pidge, what ever do you mean?” There was a polite, regal way the girl spoke, and Pidge felt her mouth go dry.

“I-I…” the words died in her throat. She stared down the girl, shock and wonder taking every muscle in her body prisoner. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening.” 

That much Pidge figured was true. She flickered her gaze amongst the group staring at her, horrified at the realization that she didn’t know. “I don’t… know who you people are. Mostly. I think. I’m sorry. I--”

Pidge was cut-off when Lance, someone she did know, suddenly gripped her shoulders, pulling her forward to scrutinize her face. There was something else in his eyes now, and Pidge felt all the guilt in her heart rise at the sight.

“Please tell me you’re joking. Like, this isn’t… this isn’t funny if you are.”

The boy in the red jacket, the one that Pidge almost didn’t notice, suddenly put an arm on Lance’s shoulder, tugging him back. “Lance.”

There was pain in the way he said his name, too, and Lance forgot about the grip he had on Pidge’s shoulders momentarily to turn and snap at the boy.

“Don’t act like you’re not freaking out either, man! Kat--Pidge doesn’t-- she’s--”

“Amnesiac.” The mustached man finished for him.

The word dropped like a weight, and for a moment, no one said anything.

Amnesiac.

Pidge ran a hand through her hair. Inhale, exhale.

“S-so,” she began slowly, which made six pairs of eyes turn to face her. She looked at each one expectantly, licking her lips before speaking.

“What’d I miss?”

 

She was reintroduced to the team she wasn’t familiar with.

Catching up wasn’t easy.

“What do you remember, exactly?” Hunk had asked, and Pidge bit her lip.

“Garrison. Flight training. We failed again.”

Hunk snorted. “Okay, that could be any week. Anything specific.”

“Yeah. You threw up.”

That earned a laugh from Lance, who, up until then, sat quietly, patiently. Which was weird and out of character for the usually flirtatious, crude boy she’s learned to come accustom to. Even weirder, every now and then one of the other people in the room would shoot him a look, and he’d shake his head, and she found herself intruding on a silent conversation she knew nothing about.

“At least that’s… kind of recent? Consensus?” Hunk voiced to the others in the room, and the girl--the one that (re)introduced herself as Princess Allura-- piped up next.

“It is fantastic to know she… probably didn’t lose much.”

“Probably didn’t lose much?” Shiro, as he said earlier, suddenly blurted. “She doesn’t remember the last year and a half of her  _ life.” _

Shiro glanced over at Pidge, a deep sadness in his eyes, and she wondered what he was thinking, what he wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, his gaze averted again, and he and the princess seemed to come to the same silent conclusion.

And they went on, telling her of what she’s missed.

A giant robot. A universe-saving robot called Voltron.

She piloted a lion. And she was good at it-- she’d have to meet this fabled Green Lion, as soon as she could.

She saved their lives.

She told everyone the truth about her identity.

There was an issue with wormholes, details would be filled in later.

And--

“You got hurt in the last battle. Really bad.” Lance said curtly, not looking up from his hands. “We put you in a stasis pod to, yanno, keep you alive.”

“Oh,” Pidge said, feeling her skin crawl.

For a moment, no one spoke again, and Pidge didn’t realize why until she saw their gazes break from staring expectantly at her, but to stare expectantly at Lance. As if he was leaving out a detail and no one on the team was going to have that.

If Lance noticed them staring at him, he pretended not to notice. A smile she knew too well formed on his face, and Lance stood up, stretching his arms out.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but this has been an incredibly dull process of recounting all my incredible victories to poor Pidge here. If you need me, I’ll be… around.”

And the boy disappeared from the room, and the looks on the remaining company’s faces shifted uncomfortably. Hunk stood up, gazing at Pidge for a second, smiling down at her.

“He’s really glad you’re okay. We all are. I’m gonna go chat with him if you guys don’t mind,” and with that Hunk hurried out too.

Pidge twiddled her thumbs, still quiet. Allura smiled, leaning across the table to grasp her hands. “I know this must be a lot to take in, Pidge.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Pidge said, finally.

“If you need time to yourself…”

“I think I do, yeah.”

“... We can introduce you to your lion. And, ah, we’re all here to talk. If you have questions about anything you’re missing, or…”

Shiro cleared his throat then, giving Allura a hard gaze, a shake of his head. Allura frowned at him, then turned her gaze back to Pidge, forcing another smile.

“If you have questions about  _ anything.” _

“T-thank you, Princess. I think. I’m… just confused right now, I guess.”

“Which makes sense. It’s okay to feel confused.”

Nothing much was left to say, then. Pidge stood up, a hand rising to her chest, balling into a fist over her heart. She inhaled, exhaled.

“Yeah. Uh. So, what’s this lion you guys are talking about?”

 

-

  
  


Lance felt like shit for a lot of things.

Top of the list?

Doing a bad job of watching out for his teammates and letting one of them get shot. Shot so bad she had to be shoved into a stasis pod for a couple of agonizing weeks. Maybe not as agonizing or as terrifying as it was to hear Pidge cry out and see blood, a lot of blood, so much goddamn _ blood-- _

He leaned against a wall and squeezed his eyes shut to try and forget again. Her screams. His screams. How she seemed to crumble against him as he ran as fast as he could to get her out of battle and somewhere she’d be safe and not dying.

Pidge was so goddamn lucky she didn’t remember any of that. Lance knew he’d never forget it.

Which brings him to the second highest item on the list.

Not telling Pidge about, objectively, one of the most important things to happen to her in the year and a half she couldn’t remember: him. Her.  _ Them. _

It made his heart ache, but he’ll be damned if he announced it to her like that, in front of the team. No way in hell. The Pidge out there would laugh in his face if he said it.

_ “Puh-lease,” _ he could imagine the humor in her voice.  _ “Like I’d ever date you.” _

He retaliated against the snarky girl in his head.

_ “Well, tough luck, sister. ‘Cause you are.” _

At least, that made him smile in the face of all this terrible shit. At least, joke-bickering with Katie “Pidge” Holt in his head made the reality of the situation less grave, less painful to stomach.

It was a lot of painful to stomach.

“Found ya,” Lance was shoved out of his thoughts by Hunk’s voice, eyes gazing down the hall to find the big guy strolling towards him, concern in his eye. “Didn’t think you’d run out of there so fast.”

“Really? Cause I thought I’d run out a lot faster. Like a racecar. Or a certain hedgehog we both know and love.” Lance tried his best to keep the sadness out of his voice, opting for a joke, opting to crack a smile on Hunk’s face.

Hunk wasn’t smiling, which just  _ made _ Lance’s Great Day get all the better.

“Lance, be honest for a minute. Please.”

Why was he just so _ good  _ at making Lance feel even more like a sorry heap of trash?

Lance let out a sigh, patiently waiting for Hunk to let him have it.

“You didn’t tell her.”

“I couldn’t. I mean, not there.”

“But you know… you have to tell her eventually. Or it’s going to suck a lot when she finds out.”

“Right, because it’s going to get way worse than it already is.” Lance almost spat out the last few words, and instantly regretted it, looking back over at Hunk. His brow was furrowed in concern. Lance cleared his throat. “I mean. This isn’t… the right time. She’s probably really scared, you know? Waking up and not knowing anything… I didn’t want to overwhelm her. A-and this isn’t about our relationship, man, this is about Pidge healing up and becoming Pidge again. It can wait.”

And Lance meant it, every last word. And although it hurt a lot to think it, Lance knew it was the right decision. He was making the right decision. Pidge had to come first. She always did.

Hunk fell silent, then, leaning in to squeeze Lance’s shoulder, a sad smile on his face.

“Okay. If you really think so. But just so we’re clear, pushing her away isn’t going to help anyone remember anything.”

Lance felt his heart catch in his chest, and he opened his mouth to respond yet no words escaped his lips. Another squeeze of his shoulder. Hunk began to walk away.

Why was he _ just so good  _ at doing that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sips tea,] anyways that was a lame chapter. things get better....? worse?? not good?? not bad?? eh??  
> haha. i don't know what i'm doin  
> NEXT TIME: pidge meets her lion and finds something that doesn't belong to her. lance is trying to play it cool. there's probably a flashback that pidge won't remember but lance does.
> 
> (if you like this kudos are appreciated & i also love comments especially for this cute rarepair;;; ok goodnight)


	2. How to Reunite with the People You Never Imagined Losing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know?? this fic is partly inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4h_Gde6XB9E)  
> haha no i'm not crying whaaat.  
> k have fun

Pidge fell into an easy step with the princess-- she found her intimidating at first, really, but after talking, after the princess treated her as an almost equal… She couldn’t help but be fond of her. After all, they were friends, right? Teammates? Something or other?

“All Paladins have a special bond with their Lions,” the princess was explaining to her, and Pidge listened with rapt attention to her words, soaking in every line.

Still unbelievable.

Her, a hero? A defender of the universe?

In a big green lion robot?

She didn’t believe it. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. These things don’t happen to Pidge. She always thought herself a normal person. Normal, sure. She grew up in a nuclear household, she was a good student, she--

Had a missing brother and father.

Who she was supposed to be finding, right now.

Or have found by now.

“Princess,” Pidge quipped, interrupting the girl’s babble about space travel and Voltron and lions flying in the sky. “I’ve been here for over a year, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Did… did I ever find my family?”

The princess went silent, fidgeting with her sleeves.

A bubble of panic began to fill Pidge’s chest.

“Not yet. But we’re not giving up, okay, Pidge? You just have to trust us.”

Trust her? _Them?_

She barely _knew_ any of them.

 

_This wasn’t part of the plan._

And she still didn’t know if her dad and Matt were safe, or even alive, or--

“Pidge?” There was concern in Allura’s voice, and she put a reassuring arm around the trembling teen’s shoulders. “Oh, dear.”

Calm down. Think logically. There’s always got to be logic. Something. Anything.

She didn’t realize she had stopped walking, didn’t realize Allura was holding her close, calm and reassured as she wrapped her arms around Pidge’s shoulders. She was saying something. Pidge inhaled, exhaled hard to swallow the nausea rising in her stomach, swallow her tears for just a minute.

She had to breathe. She had to focus.

“Losing family… it’s difficult. You know-- Well, I guess you technically don’t know, but I lost my father, too. And… and you can get through this, Pidge, because you’re not alone, and we all love and care about you, alright? We’re your family, too!”

There was something about the way the princess said those words that made Pidge crack a smile, let out a snort.

“Yeah. I mean… you probably know me a lot better than I know me, right now.” Pidge voiced to the older, still trembling, still feeling the panic and fear running through her veins. Allura let out a quiet laugh, pulling away from the younger to look her in the eye.

“I guess that’s a bit true, isn’t it?” Allura said, eyes smiling even if her mouth wasn’t upturned at the corners. There was something sad in her eyes, too, something archaic. She seemed like she wanted to say more, but refrained. A clear of the throat.

“Anyways, I’m sure the Green Lion will be so relieved to see you’re okay. Your its Paladin, after all.”

“Right. About that, actually,” Pidge was surprised at the sudden quick pace the princess took, scrambling a bit to catch up and fall in line again with her long, elegant strides. “Uhm, how do you know the Lion won’t… reject me? Like, if I don’t remember it then I can’t really be in tune with it, right? W-will it still want me? What if this… Green Lion doesn’t…”

“Pidge,” Allura interrupted, still keeping her eyes focus in front of her. “You and your Lion have a truly spectacular bond. I have no doubt in my mind that it will love you all the same. After all, you have the mind, heart, and spirit of a Green Paladin. Amnesia may have stolen away your memories, but it can’t take that away from you.”

Pidge didn’t say anything else.

She couldn’t, really, after they entered the hangar and she saw the robot.

It was incredible.

And she had a hard time believing it was hers.

She felt Allura’s hand on her back, pushing her forward towards the beast.

“Go on, then. Greet your old friend.”

Old friend.

Friend.

Pidge stumbled to the hulking mass of metal and pure power, adrenaline pumping away in her muscles. She felt a knot of excitement twist and untwist itself as she got closer, examining the sleek design, the ingenuity behind the craftsmanship. It was a beautiful shade of green. Her favorite shade of green.

It shouldn’t have shocked her so much to see the beast move on its own, bending down low and looking at her. And something happened, something almost indescribable. Like a heavy force took her down inside, engulfing her mind with strong emotions and images. She almost had a hard time telling apart the feelings. There was relief. Anger. Joy. Excitement. Sadness. For a second, she couldn’t tell if these were hers or the Lion’s.

It was both.

She placed a hand on the cool metal of its front paw, staring down at it. A soft exhale from her lips.

A truly spectacular bond.

“Hey buddy,” Pidge found herself saying, craning her neck back to look at its head. “Sorry for forgetting about you.”

The lion seemed to purr in response. She gave it another pat on the paw, turning to Allura, who watched the two with glee in her eyes. Her expression faltered for a moment, suddenly stepping towards Pidge.

“Pidge, are you alright?”

“What? Y-yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

She was?

Pidge raised a hand and pressed two fingers to her cheek, pulling them away to inspect the tear, surprised. She was crying, and she felt another swell of strong emotions from the Lion, who seemed to be giving her a hug in her mind.

She sniffed.

“M-must be the Lion. It’s giving off really strong emotions right now. I think I can feel it crying, or something.”

Allura smiled, this time fully, at the teen, then gazed up to the Lion.

“Yes. It really missed you. And I think you missed it, too.”

“Maybe.”

They abandoned the hangar almost too soon, and Pidge promised herself she’d get in and pilot it as soon as she could. As soon as her head stopped spinning and she could remember how to do anything else besides walk and talk and arithmetic in her head. She looked up at Allura, again.

Allura said she’d help her with anything concerning her memory, right?

Then…

“Princess, how did I get amnesia anyway? What happened to me, specifically? Why did you guys put me in that pod?”

Allura froze.

Of all the things the girl could ask, Allura had hoped these questions would’ve been saved for someone else to answer.

A particular someone, who was AWOL right now.

“You were hurt, very badly. I couldn’t tell you what happened, because I wasn’t the one with you when it did. But when you were brought on board…” Allura gulped, hard. “There was a lot of blood, Pidge. Not a lot of time. We thought we wouldn’t be able to save you.”

Pidge felt her blood run cold.

She had a weird suspicion, of course, that she was dead.

But she wasn’t.

“You guys did, though.”

“Yes. We had to put you in the stasis pod, because, well, it’s in the name. It keeps you in until you’re stabilized and well enough to climb back out.”

“I guess the pod doesn’t check for amnesia.”

A hollow laugh. “I guess not. But it surely isn’t permanent. I’m sure it’ll all come back to you, soon.”

Pidge didn’t like the lack of confidence in Allura’s words. For a princess who seemed so sure of herself, so sure of her decisions… insecurity didn’t fit into the way she spoke.

“You said you weren’t there when… I got injured.” Pidge said, finally. Allura nodded. “Then, well, who was?”

The princess pressed her lips together, furrowing her brow in thought. Pidge wondered what she was thinking, whether she was deciding to give Pidge the full truth or just a half one.

“It was Lance.”

“Lance.” Pidge repeated, and she didn’t realize how strange it was to say his name again. Lance. That made sense. They were Garrison teammates. He knew her. She knew him. It made sense.

It also made sense, then, why he was acting so weird earlier. Pidge felt her chest ache at the thought. _Poor Lance. He’s usually cool under pressure, but whatever happened… It must’ve really freaked him out._

_He must be blaming himself for my getting hurt._

_Wow, I’m a shitty friend._

“I have to talk to him,” Pidge announced, more to herself than the princess, who startled at the exclamation. “Do you… know? Where he might be, I mean?”

“His room, I’m sure. I can take you there…” Allura stopped herself, and cleared her throat. “Although, I’m sure you want to change out of that medical frock…”

Oh.

Pidge almost forgot she wasn’t wearing anything besides the medical frock. She flustered, nodding her head quietly.

“Yeah. Good idea.”

“So, your room first?”

“My room first.”

 

Pidge didn’t know what she expected when she stepped into her room. It was in disarray, which didn’t surprise her in the least bit. Books towered next to the bed, scribbled out notes and blueprints tacked to the walls of the small room. Her bed wasn’t made. She felt a little bit relieved to know that, in the last year and a half, she was still as disorganized as ever.

She flopped down onto the unkempt bed, breathing in the scent of her pillows. Still her, she figured, inhaling the soft scent of coconut… and another, lingering smell of something musky. She pulled her face away, crinkling her nose, hands sliding beneath her pillows to feel the cool underside--

Hold on.

Pidge was touching something. Fabric. Cotton. Sleeves.

Jacket.

Not her windbreaker.

She sat up, withdrawing a grey hoodie from underneath, scrutinizing it for a second. Familiar and yet, so unfamiliar at the same time. She brought it to her face, catching the musky scent that had mingled into her pillows.

It was comforting, and she couldn’t really figure out why she felt so.

The jacket reminded her she was still in the medical frock. And although Pidge dreaded the horror of seeing whatever damage was under the clean, white fabric, she was getting tired of how itchy it was on her skin.

The frock peeled off easily once she figured out how to undo it. She shuddered at the chill in her room as the frock dropped to her ankles, and Pidge retreated to the small bathroom in her room to examine herself.

For a second, when Pidge locked eyes with her reflection in the mirror, Pidge thought she was her brother. Of course, that wasn’t shocking to her, what with the way she matched his rounded frames and fanning out bob.

Her hair was growing out. Her cheeks seemed rounder.

And she grew an inch, maybe. And her figure seemed a bit fuller--stronger. Muscled, lean. She ran her hands up and down her arms, cocking her head, touching the front of her thighs, which were thicker than she remembered. She wasn’t quite as small as she used to be. Not quite as childish, but more like a teenager.

Or a warrior, judging by the incriminating marks on her body. They were impossible not to notice. The scarring, on her arms, legs, chest. Cuts, bruises, scabs. A fresh wound, she noticed, a large, horrifyingly misshapen gash along her abdomen. Still healing. She chalked it up to whatever the last fight was, the fight where she got hurt so badly she forgot her friends.

Except, that wasn’t a head wound, and in almost a daze she turned herself around to see the ugly, ugly scarring that started at the bottom of her hairline, shooting out like a firework in all directions down towards the middle of her back. She was sure there had to be something healing under her hair, and she refused to feel for it. She blinked back tears, turning around to face her front, count the scars and bruises there, focus on organizing data rather than about the kind of pain that ghosted beneath the surface of all these marks.

Maybe thirty, forty cuts from her shoulders to her navel.

One big, long gash in her abdomen.

Ugly yellow bruising on her limbs.

A single, fading bruise on her collarbone that didn’t seem to match in at all with the rest of the scars. Nothing to take particular care to, she figured, what with the other damage she was looking at.

She quickly threw on a shirt, shorts--her windbreaker nowhere to be found, she opted for the grey hoodie. Socks… no matching pair. Slippers in the likelihood of her Lion. Adorable, obviously.

Pidge shoved her hands into the pockets of the hoodie, letting out a low whistle. Her first order of business was complete. Second, talk to Lance.

She really wished she didn’t have to. Not when she felt so guilty about whatever happened. Pidge figured she must’ve been careless and got shot and Lance was unfortunately the only one there to help. She raised a hand to push her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. Fortunately, more like. She’d be dead if not for him, right?

Positive thinking gets the job done.

Her dad used to-- her dad _does_ say that a lot.

She slipped out of her room, steeling herself, padding the short distance down the hall to where Lance should’ve been, if Allura was right.

Pidge had no idea what to say to him, she realized.

“Thanks for not letting me die out there, dude.”

“Hey, hope my almost-dying didn’t completely scar you for life!”

She chewed on her lip, wondering quietly if either of those were appropriate. After all, she didn’t even _know_ Lance anymore. Well, _of course_ she knew Lance, but maybe the Lance she dealt with at the Garrison-- womanizing, stupid, egotistical Lance-- wasn’t even the same Lance.

A year and a half.

That’s a long time to change a person.

She knocked half-heartedly.

There was a groan, a shuffle behind the door. Lance was speaking before the door even completely opened.

“Shiro, if you’re here to chew me out over earlier, in my defense, I’m a _complete_ idiot--”

Lance froze in place, surprised to find, not Shiro, but Pidge.

Pidge, alive, standing in front of him. Brows furrowing. A pout on her lips. Hands shoved into the pockets of a grey hoodie that was too big on her but just the right size for him.

He felt his heart skip a beat, then sink when he really, really took in the expression on her face.

For a second, Lance was mortified somebody told her the truth and she was here to kick his ass.

Then she spoke.

“Yeah, I think everyone knows you’re a complete idiot, by now.”

And he realized that that wasn’t the case. She was staring at him. Waiting. Lance cleared his throat, hard.

“You look like garbage.”

Her hard, scrutinizing gaze softened, and Lance had to resist every urge that shouted at him to throw his arms around her and cry. Because she was alive and here and she wanted to see him and she was okay, she really, _really_ was okay.

Even if she couldn’t remember a damn thing. Even if she still clearly didn’t know why she had that jacket engulfing her demure frame.

“You haven’t changed,” Pidge spoke softly, hands rising from her pockets to cross her chest, wrapping around herself. “Lance.”

Lance didn’t like the way she was saying his name, or the way she was avoiding his gaze.

“We need to talk.”

 

_“If I wasn’t so tired, you’d be dead by now.”_

_Lance would’ve taken the threat with a grain of salt. But then the girl peered over the top of her laptop screen with a murderous glare, and Lance’s toes snaked away from digging mercilessly into her ticklish sides._

_“Thank you,” she said after a moment, and the pair readjusted themselves to press the soles of their feet together, knees up, pushing against each other in a sleepy game of footsie._

_“You sound like you’re about to pass out.”_

_“Not yet. Just five more minutes. I think I’m almost done writing this code…”_

_“Wow, I love it when you talk nerdy. Whisper sweet equations to me, would you?”_

_“Ew.”_

_Lance stretched his legs out, causing Pidge’s knees to bump into her chest. She grumbled at him about “stupid tree legs,” but resumed her coding, ever determined to finish her work before play. Lance sometimes wondered why he found her so endearing, watching the top of her head bob, listening to the sound of keys clicking rapidly beneath her fingers. An inaudible murmur as she worked out algorithms and lines in her head, repeating them outloud as to not slip up a single line of work. He couldn’t see her face from behind the screen, but he could imagine the light in her amber-hued eyes, the pucker of her lips, furrow of her brow in concentration. Not to mention how at home she looked, in this moment, wearing his hoodie because wearing her windbreaker in bed wasn’t the most comfortable thing. Grey was a good color on anyone, but looked especially nice on Pidge._

_His chest tightened and for a second, thought it might burst._

_It wasn’t long for the clicking of keys to slow, and a satisfied hum to bubble out of the girl before the laptop was shut and placed on the floor near her bed. She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm, and then gazed over at Lance._

_“Okay. I’m yours. For like, a minute I think. I’m beat, man.”_

_“A minute’s really all I need.” Lance quipped, sitting up and crawling over to pin the girl down, holding her hostage in her own bed, threading his fingers through hers. Pidge snorted, lifting her head to clumsily bump her lips against his chin. A small gesture. A Pidge-like gesture. With that, Lance dropped into the empty space at her side, giggling like a kid._

_“What’s so funny?”_

_“Nothing. Just thinking about how incredibly_ you _that was.”_

_“Are you patronizing me?”_

_“Possibly. You’re smart enough to figure it out.”_

_A sharp punch to the gut. He deserved that._

_“Just for that, you’re not getting this thing back until tomorrow.”_

_“What, the jacket?”_

_For a second, Pidge’s expression faltered from teasing to downright flustered. She pushed her glasses up with one hand._

_“Yeah, the jacket.”_

_“Looks better on you anyway.”_

_She didn’t respond, only turned away from him to face the wall, curling in on herself like a cat, feet tucked under her, arms wrapping around her pillow._

_“Obviously,” came the quiet response. “Are you sticking around tonight?”_

_He snorted. “I think so. I’d rather be here. You know, nightmare reasons.”_

_“Nightmare reasons,” Pidge confirmed, although she really wouldn’t have mind if his answer didn’t include that excuse. Neither of them needed it anymore._

_His hand slipped around her waist, and Pidge bristled feeling his breath against her head. She liked this. It was a small gesture. A very Lance-like gesture._

_“Goodnight, Pidge.”_

_It was a sing-songy whisper, and Pidge carefully took the false glasses off her face and set them on her pillow, burrowing herself deeper against Lance’s chest._

_“Night.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live off of tears  
> NEXT TIME: pidge and lance talk and SOMEBODY keeps avoiding telling the damn truth


	3. No Need for Introductions, But Maybe Some Apologies

Why the hell did he invite her into his room?

Privacy was the obvious answer. Neither of them needed any of the others listening in on a conversation that was already being spoken in hushed tones.

She had shuffled into his room, eyes downcast, arms still wound taut across her chest. She sat on his bed. Swung her legs, back and forth, back and forth to the rhythm of a pendulum clock. Lance let the door to his room shut, and he leaned hard against it, looking straight ahead at the white wall in front of him, away from Pidge.

_ “We need to talk.” _

Lance really, really didn’t like the way she said that. Like she knew something he didn’t, or maybe he was wrong and she _did_ find out and she realized that Pidge _and_ _Lance_ couldn’t be a thing. And just the very possibility that she was thinking that, well…

It scared him.

He let his eyes wander back to the Green Paladin, who still wasn’t saying anything. There was something wrong with her eyes. They weren’t wide pools of sparkling honey anymore, no mirthful curiosity or analytical beauty glittering beneath the surface. She didn’t look okay. Then again, how could she be?

Lance could still see the blood caking in her hair, hear the sound of something firing, a sharp, sudden scent reminiscent of gasoline. The way she glowed, for a second, as the blast from a gun arced across her armor like lightning and seared flesh.

He squeezed his eyes shut to expel the memory.

He almost didn’t realize Pidge was finally breaking the silence.

“Sorry, what?” Lance asked sheepishly, and without skipping a beat, Pidge repeated herself.

“Princess Allura told me about… you know.”

(He most certainly did  _ not _ know.)

“Oh. Wow. Way to ruin the surprise, right?”

_ What the heck was Allura thinking? _

“I mean, I wasn’t that surprised.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Pidge quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Uh, yeah? It makes sense.”

“I-- Pidge-- Woah. Geez. I was freaking out over here, you know, thinking you’d kick my ass or something. But this is a lot better. Like, a hundred times better. A thousand, probably?”

She blinked, surprised at the statement from the taller other. “You think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Pidge stopped swinging her legs, lifting her knees off the floor and pressing her chin down on the joints. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips.

“I don’t know, Lance. I just… my head is spinning. I was so worried that whatever happened was terrifying for you if you were the only one there to have my back. A-and you’re just standing there telling me that you’re…  _ happy _ about it?”

And with those words, it finally clicked for Lance.

First of all, Pidge did not know, and Allura did not tell.

Second of all, he looked like a total prick, again.

“Oh. No. _ No!  _ Of course not. It’s not what you think. I-I thought you were talking about something else, honestly.” Lance blubbered out, defensively putting his hands up. She looked up at him, frowning.

“I’m not following. Something else?”

Yikes.

This was, on one hand, a good opportunity. Tell Pidge the truth. Wipe his conscience clean of guilt. No matter how she handled the news, she would still know.

On the other hand, however, was a girl with no memory of ever holding his hand in hers.

And Lance didn’t know if he was ready to bring it up, to try and force her to remember.

Things didn’t work like that.

People didn’t work like that.

He shook his head at her. “Nothing. You were saying?”

Pidge furrowed her brow at him in the same way she did when she couldn’t figure out some nerdy equation. “I was saying, I guess… I’m sorry.”

Lance blinked at her, once, twice. Her frown deepened.

“You could say thank you or something, you know.” She said, as if it was the clearest thing in the world. And Lance thought about it, saying thanks, letting her go and pretending like he didn’t have anything else to say.

“You don’t have to be sorry if it wasn’t your fault, Pidge.”

And it was Pidge’s turn to stare, perplexed at the exclamation from her friend.

“Lance?”

“What happened to you, I mean. It was on me. I should’ve been more alert, not so focused on, uh,” Lance averted his gaze, his voice dropping. “T-trying to make you laugh.”

Pidge didn’t know what she was feeling, after the confession. She was sure if it was any other time, any other place, she’d scold him right then and there for being an idiot. But she didn’t feel like doing that. If anything, she was comforted by the knowledge.

“Really.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Of course, really.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for it if you are.”

“That’s a little tough for me to do, Pidge.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m sorry for… well, everything.”

A silent moment passed. Pidge cleared her throat.

“Thank you for being honest,” Pidge said, and she might have imagined it, but Lance seemed to wince. She hesitated a moment before speaking up again. “So, uh, what was it?”

“What was what?”

“The joke, or whatever. I don’t remember.” She said the last part with a smile, and she was relieved when Lance stood up straighter, a mischievous grin forming.

“As much as I’d love to tell you, I’m afraid I can’t. Only  _ my _ Pidge can ever know what terrible jokes I conjured up for her on that fateful day.”

“Don’t be dumb. I  _ am _ your Pidge.”

And although Pidge didn’t know how hard those words made Lance’s heart beat, she found herself feeling the same response. A blush creeping into her cheeks.

“A-anyway. I… I think I’m going to go take a walk,” Pidge said, standing up quickly from Lance’s bed. “Organize my thoughts. Yeah. Uh.”

“Right. Of course. Totally understandable.”

Lance moved to the side and the door slid open. Before stepping out, Pidge stopped, turning her head and lifting her chin slightly to meet his gaze.

“Thank you, really. With how you were acting earlier, I was just… worried, you know? You’re my teammate. Even if you are a total trainwreck.”

Lance reached a hand out to touch her hair, then hesitated, pulling his arm back. “Don’t mention it. If I had lost my memory, I’m sure you’d be helping me out with remembering things, too.”

(Lance wondered, quietly, how Pidge would handle their dilemma.)

They shared a smile, and Pidge couldn’t figure out whether she should shake his hand or hug him.

She opted for the latter, surprising the taller by wrapping her arms around his abdomen, pressing her cheek into his shirt. Lance let out a surprised yelp. She could hear his heart pumping, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. There was something comforting and familiar about the way his shirt smelled, but she didn’t think too hard on it. His hands folded across her back, and his chin pressed into the top of her head.

“Yeah. I would.” Pidge said, pulling away from Lance to catch the warmth in his eyes, and feel the warmth growing across her face. “S-see ya.”

And with that, Pidge scurried out of his room, hurrying down the hall in a direction she didn’t know, prepared to explore the castleship now that the second item on her to-do list was completed. Her hands balled into fists, and Pidge walked faster to convince herself the thumping of her heart was due to speedwalking in Green Lion slippers.

She tugged the hoodie tighter around her, breathing it in again.

And Pidge stopped dead in her tracks.

Musky. Definitely so. A hint of peppermint.

Lance smelled just like this.

Was she imagining it?

Inhale. Exhale.

_ No. That… doesn’t make sense. He must’ve just… rubbed off onto my hoodie. Yeah. _

She repeated that, once, twice, to be sure.

She started to walk a little faster.

 

_ “Okay,” Pidge said, holding the coin between her thumb and index finger, letting it catch the flourescent light of the room. “I call tails.” _

_ Lance’s face split into a grin. “‘Cause that’s about as high as you can reach?” _

_ She considered her bayard, which sat on the edge of the table, a short distance away from being equipped. A sly smile appeared on her face, and Lance sat up straighter, splaying his fingers to show he meant no harm. _

_ “Okay. Gotcha. You can have tails and I’ll try to refrain from making short jokes.” _

_ “Try?” _

_ “You can stand to sound more appreciative, you know.” _

_ She snorted at him, casually flipping the coin. Captured it in her fist, placed it on her arm. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She met Lance’s gaze. _

_ “Confident?” _

_ Lance shrugged. “Dunno yet. I like leaving things up to fate.” _

_ The coin came up heads. _

_ She suppressed a grin. Lance, in contrast, stood up quickly, almost knocking his chair over. _

_ “You rigged it!” _

_ “How would I have rigged it? You’re the one who left it up to fate!” _

_ An embarrassed blush crossed Lance’s features, and he snatched the coin up out of Pidge’s hand, scrutinizing it. “Best two out of three?” _

_“No way. Deciding who does it by coin flip, by the way, was_ your _idea.”_

_ “That was before I lost,” Lance squeaked, collapsing into his seat, defeated. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say.” _

_ “What are you supposed to be saying?” _

_ The third voice in the room came from Coran, who waltzed his way through to the pair of teens seated at the dining. He twirled one end of his mustache, watching the two kids who looked at him as if they had been caught stealing cookies from a jar. The pair exchanged a terrified glance. _

_ “Uh, we’re rehearsing acceptance speeches.” Lance suddenly blurted, and if looks really did have the power to kill, Pidge’s glare would’ve done him in. _

_ “Acceptance speeches, you say? What for?” _

_ “When we save the universe from Zarkon and everyone’s praising us, obviously.” _

_ Coran wasn’t buying it, not in the least bit. His eyes focused on Pidge, who sat ramrod straight under the man’s scrutiny. _

_ “Pidge?” _

_ She fidgeted with the frames of her glasses, looking in Lance’s direction for a brief second. Her gaze flicked between the two of them for a solid few ticks. _

_ A bitter sigh escaped her. _

_ “You owe me big time, Lance,” Pidge said, avoiding his gaze, instead staring down Coran. He was patient. She was also patient. If they had another ten thousand years to spare, they probably would’ve stayed like this for the duration. _

_ “Lance and I are a thing now, please don’t tell anyone.” The words fired from her mouth at an alarming speed, which earned a surprised groan from Lance, who proceeded to slam his face down into the table. _

_ “I can’t believe you told Coran,” Lance mumbled. Pidge grumbled. _

_ “What does that even mean?!” _

_ “I mean, it’s Coran,” Lance said, matter-of-factly. The girl and Altean stared at him. _

_ “I don’t believe I’m following,” Coran finally said, setting his focus once again on Pidge. “What do you mean, you and Lance are a _ thing? _ Aren’t you lifeforms, humans to be exact?” _

_ “Oh! Oh,” Pidge managed, looking again between the two. “W-Well. That’s a, uh. Lance, help me out here.” _

_ Lance looked up at Coran, who was looking down at him expectantly. “Well, for starters, Pidge and Lance like to… uh. Hold hands?” _

“Seriously?” _ Pidge quipped. _

_ “I don’t know what you want from me, Pidge. That is the least embarrassing answer I could’ve given him.” _

_ “H-how is saying that we like to hold hands any less embarrassing than calling it what it is?” She hissed. A blush formed on his cheeks, but Pidge could make him as flustered as she wanted to-- he wasn’t going to back off from a challenge. Especially not when it came to telling the rest of the team that they were-- _

_ “Oh! You’re in a courtship?” _

_ The battle between the paladins would have to be put on hold. They turned in slow unison to face Coran. _

_ “A c-c-courtship?” Pidge squeaked. Last she checked, her definition of courtship meant-- _

_ “Sure, if that’s what Alteans called it.” _

_ She wanted to smack Lance upside the head. With a dictionary. _

_ Coran clasped his hands together, looking down at the teens with endearment in his eyes. And a couple of tears. _

_ “My, how wonderful! I can’t even begin to express how happy I am for you two. Why, I remember the first time one of my dear friends--” _

_ “Coran,” Pidge said quickly, hoping to interrupt the man before he began spinning another, drawling anecdote. “Thank you, but… can you swear you won’t tell the rest of the team?” _

_ “Keep secrets from the team?” _

_ “Yes. We’re not… ready to tell everyone just yet.” _

_ Coran put on a smile, bending down to pat Pidge on the head. “Well, then. Your secret’s safe with me. I suppose I should be off, then. Just came down to see what all the racket was about. Unless, of course, I can enlist you two to help with--” _

_ “No!” came the unified response. And with that, Coran clicked his heels and was off again to do more work around the castle. The pair listened closely, awaiting until his footsteps receded a good distance away. A shared exhale of held in breath. _

_ “That went a lot more smoothly than I thought it would,” Lance joked. Pidge glared at him. _

_ “Yeah, it did. I didn’t realize we were getting married. When were you planning on telling me?” _

_ “Haha. Wait, what?” _

_ “Courtship, Lance. Catch up.” _

_ The expression that grew on his face caused Pidge to erupt in loud, unadulterated laughter, pressing a hand over her mouth to keep from being heard. _

_ “Why didn’t you stop me?!” _

_ “I thought you knew!” _

_ “You just let me say it, though! If he tells Shiro, I’m going to die. Like, I will be thrown out of the airlock and I will die, Pidge.” _

_ “Aw, I miss you already.” _

_ She flashed him a warm smile, and Lance could feel the embarrassment and terror that tumbled in his chest slow to a halt. Pidge was good at that, calming his nerves, even when she was just being a terrible asshole. _

_ (But hey, takes one to know one.) _

_ “Okay,” Lance said finally, holding up a hand, fingers spread wide. He closed his thumb. “So that’s one down. Four to go.” _

_ “Four to go,” Pidge repeated, still smiling at him. “Not as bad as we thought it’d go, right?” _

_ “Right. That was way too easy.” _

_ “You think so?” _

_ “Uh, yeah.” _

_ “Then you’re doing it next time.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time on "what do you MEAN we're not getting hitched":  
> -pidge meets keith, again  
> -lance gets scolded by mom and dad  
> -and, also, the rest of the team finds out about the... courtship
> 
> THANKS FOR READING!!!! i'm glad... this is being enjoyed.... who's got two thumbs and loves you?? THIS GIRL


	4. Swimming Through Stars and Memories Composed of Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes, i update this really fast  
> why no, i do not know when this momentum will halt and i will crash violently into a wall and you'll have to wait longer than 24 hours for a new chapter,  
> enjoy anyway!

_ The mice told her, of course. Because mice were bad at keeping secrets, much more so than Coran was. _

_ Allura had been at the helm of the ship, watching the stars float by in a sea of black space, hands drumming against her side. The mice had scrambled up the controls, squeaking and fumbling against each other all the way. She smiled down at them. _

_ “Hello again, dearest friends,” Allura spoke to the mice, casually, not in a tone that the Paladins often did-- ‘baby-talk,’ they called it. Allura didn’t understand that. The mice were her equals, not pets to speak down to as if they were infants… _

_ The mice were chattering excitedly, giddy with news. More stories and gossip to share with the princess when she was alone and couldn’t find the others to converse with. Allura sometimes felt bad that she was practically snooping on her guests through the mice, but she really, really did like learning about her odd human companions and their quirks-- in ways that they’d never say to her, directly. _

_ And she leaned down to be level with the creatures, who were chattering over each other, trying to pantomime their words again, and Allura cocked her head in frustration. _

_ “Now, now. One at a time.” _

_ They tried again, slower, heeding the princess’s demand. _

_ Pidge, she recognized the smallest mime out. _

_ “... And Lance?” Allura mused aloud, to let the mice know she was following their game of charades and squeaks. _

_ Pidge and Lance. And-- _

_ A spin, a dip and, oh-- _

_ Oh? _

_ “What?!” Allura’s voice rose in pitch and volume, and the princess quickly regained her composure, slapping a hand over her lips. No, no way. She probably read that wrong. But then the mice were nodding, chattering over each other, and Allura had to take a moment to think. _

_ Pidge and Lance. Lance and Pidge. _

_ She looked at the clock. They had to be nearly done eating breakfast, by now. _

_ She quickly stormed down to the dining hall, where she found the paladins and Coran. Coran was clearing the table, the paladins discussing something with each other. _

_ “All I’m saying is that we have to try it. At least once.” Lance was speaking, hands crossed over his chest, leaning in front of Shiro to stop the man from walking. “Like, if we can do it, it’d be totally awesome.” _

_ “Or totally dangerous,” Keith quipped, walking around to the other side of the table, lifting his chin towards Hunk and Pidge, who were still seated, mumbling to themselves and looking at each other, clearly in the middle of working out some new tech benefit for them. “Hunk, Pidge. What do you guys think?” _

_ The two exchanged a glance, and Hunk shrugged. _

_ “Honestly? I have no idea what would happen,” he began, then looked over at Lance, a sparkle in his eye. “But dude, seriously, if we can do a cartwheel as Voltron that’d be _ sick.”

_ “Haha!” Triumphant, Lance poked at Shiro’s chest, then cocked his head towards Keith. “Voltron doing a cartwheel was just nerd approved. Now we have to try it.” _

_ Just before Keith could retaliate, Allura cleared her throat. _

_ “Good morning, paladins.” _

_ “Good morning, gorgeous!” Lance shot back, grinning widely. “Did you hear the great news? We’re going to try a cartwheel. In Voltron.” _

_ “Er-- Right now?” _

_ Shiro answered before Lance could, terrified at whatever words might just come from the Blue Paladin. “No. I think before we do anything else, we hit the training deck, guys.” _

_ A mutual groan from the four others. Allura granted Shiro a warm smile. _

_ “Actually, I was hoping… could I borrow a couple of you, paladins? I wanted to do an inventory check, and figured Coran and I can’t count all of our supplies…” _

_ “Oh,” Shiro’s tone was a mixture of surprise, hesitance, and finally, acceptance. “Sure. Hunk, Pidge, could you--” _

_ “I actually would prefer Lance and Pidge.” _

_ Lance blinked, surprised. Did he just hear that right? He stole a look at Pidge, who was also giving Allura a shocked stare. _

_ Shiro was hesitant again, but he knew better than to fight the princess on the subject. “Sure. Lance, Pidge, go on with Allura. Hunk, Keith, training deck.” _

_ A grumble came out of Hunk, but no one really did complain. Soon, Lance and Pidge were walking behind Allura down a long corridor. _

_ She stopped walking, suddenly. When it was just the three of them. Allura gave the pair a look over her shoulder, eyes full of mirth. _

_ And then the paladins put two and two together. _

_ She  _ knew.

_ “That’s it. I’m never telling Coran anything, ever again.” Lance said, defeated. Pidge elbowed him, eyes still on the princess, who snorted at the statement. _

_ “Coran didn’t tell me.” _

_ Pidge chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Mice?” _

_ “Mice.” _

_ “Okay. So, I’m not telling the mice anything ever again,” Lance corrected, and Allura cracked a smile at the two. _

_ “You know, I don’t think I ever expected this.” Allura said, continuing in a backwards stride. _

_ “Honestly? Neither did we.” Pidge answered, and she caught Lance staring at her and offered him a shy smile. Then the expression dropped, and she focused again on Allura, opening her mouth to speak. _

_ “I won’t tell,” Allura answered before the question could escape. “But you two shouldn’t keep it a secret from the other paladins, either.” _

_ Lance and Pidge shared a bitter glance. She was right. They hated that she was right. Especially when it came to forming Voltron, when they got to see into each others’ heads a little more, the others would find out. There wasn’t room for secrets. _

_ Allura took their silence as compliance, and she turned back around and kept on walking. _

_ “Anyways, inventory.” _

 

Lance was really, really hoping not to run into Shiro or Allura, for at least the next month.

But there they were, in the helm of the ship, pouring over maps and constellations and talking about trajectory and speed and what not. Lance was interested, sure. He knew what a lot of the jargon meant, understood what they were talking about when it came to routing and thrusters and all the good works he got to study when he got into the Garrison for piloting.

But Lance, at the moment, was not interested in joining the conversation (no matter how badly he would’ve liked to, you know, learn from the pros.) He was about to turn around. Pretend he never walked that way. Hoped to whatever gods were out there that they wouldn’t notice him and--

“Lance.”

Lance convinced himself there were no gods. He turned his head slowly to face his idol and the princess, feeling his heart stop when he saw the looks on their faces.

Lance could’ve handled anger and disappointment.

Lance couldn’t, however, handle the concern, pained look in their eyes.

“What?” He managed to say, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his olive-toned utility jacket. The toe of his shoe kicked out at nothing.

Allura stepped towards him, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He recoiled on reflex, and immediately regretted it.

“Oh, Lance,” Allura began, pulling her hand away. “I-I sent Pidge your way, earlier. Did she…?”

“You told Pidge to talk to him?” Shiro asked in a hushed tone, eyebrows raising. “Allura, that couldn’t have been a good idea.”

“I know! But I figured they should at least talk, you know?” Allura hissed back, and the two focused back on Lance. “But considering your demeanor, Lance…”

“Everything’s fine,” Lance said, quickly. “We talked a little.”

“And?” Shiro asked. Lance hesitated.

“And nothing. If you were expecting me to drop the bomb, I didn’t, okay?”

“Lance, you can’t go on hiding the truth and expecting it to work itself out--”

“Maybe I want to.” He didn’t mean to sound so forceful. “You… you can’t have any idea how it feels.”

And Lance wished he could’ve taken the words back when he saw the expressions on Shiro and Allura’s faces.

_ Dumbass. Did you really just say that to the only other people on this ship who do understand how it feels to have missed out on pieces of their lives? _

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Lance apologized. Shiro walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder, offering a sad smile.

“I know you probably didn’t.”

“It’s just frustrating, you know? Wanting so badly to help but feeling so helpless.”

It was Allura’s turn to come over, wrapping one arm around Lance’s back, squeezing his upper arm with her other hand. She placed her cheek on his shoulder, squeezing. She didn’t say anything, only held him so, and Lance found the gesture reassuring. It reminded him of when he was little, when his mom was trying to comfort him.

And the three of them stood there quietly at the helm, all of space whizzing past them in dangling little stars. 

And they felt, in that moment, very, very small.

 

-

 

A tingle went down her spine.

Pidge felt another, again. The strange sensation that reminded her of ghost hunting shows. After all, that’s what she thought she was experiencing. A ghost of a memory. Faint, barely there, but it was still there and comforting to know that maybe, just maybe, she had no reason to worry that her memories were gone forever. Not when she was clearly, ever so clearly remembering something.

At least, her body was. The sensation of fingers entwined in hers. Arms wrapping around her waist, someone pulling her into a hug from behind. She was embarrassed to recognize a couple as kisses, or so she figured-- one light and lingering behind her ear, another warm and electric on her lips.

She batted the memories away. Even though Pidge wanted more than anything to have her memories back, these were far too embarrassing, especially for her. Not when it was beginning to dawn on her that the last year and a half was spent on this ship, and that meant whoever was leaving these ghostly imprints in her mind-- they had to still be on it.

The thought left her head spinning, again, and Pidge dug her nails harder into the palms of her hands. It just couldn’t have been possible. Her and… She felt her face flush, and Pidge focused on the sound of her footsteps as she strode down another hallway in this behemoth of a ship to keep her mind off her rapidly beating heart.

She didn’t notice she had bumped into someone, not until she had landed on her butt. She let out a weak huff.

“Sorry. Didn’t see yo-- Oh.”

Oh.

It was that one guy. With the red jacket.

“Keith,” Pidge managed, and she hoped she didn’t sound so pathetic and confused as she felt. The boy offered a hand. She took it, gratefully.

“You look like you want to punch something,” Keith said, taking in her disheveled appearance, and she felt her face flush.

“Yeah. Maybe myself, in the face.” A reluctant sigh. “Just having a hard time wrapping my mind around… everything, I guess?”

Keith gave a slow nod, looking past her down the hall. He seemed like the quiet, mysterious type, Pidge noted, and she couldn’t tell if she appreciated that about him or was intimidated.

“I was actually headed towards the training deck. Been there yet?”

“Uh,” Pidge stumbled over her own tongue, faltering a little under his hard gaze. He was hard to read. That sucked. “No?”

“You can probably punch something there that’s not yourself,” Keith offered a smile, and began to walk ahead, turning slightly to face her. “Come on.”

Pidge was grateful for Keith, she decided. She walked faster to catch up to him.

“Sorry I don’t remember you,” Pidge said, quickly. A soft scoff from the other.

“Not a big deal.”

“It’s kind of a big deal, I mean. I don’t know anything about you, really? And that’s weird, because I feel like if we’ve been friends for more than a year, I should know a lot.”

Keith shrugged. “I think you’re overthinking it. I mean, we were friends. Good friends.”

“Good friends,” Pidge repeated. Her fingers strung together. “Then, uh, if we’re good friends, can I ask a weird question? Good friend to good friend?”

“Okay. But if it’s about any embarrassing thing that may have happened to us, I’d rather you just wait to remember it. Unless it’s about Lance. Then I’m happy to share.”

Pidge cracked a laugh at that. “No, but I’ll keep that in mind for later. I was hoping you could tell me if… you know… anything weird was going on between, I dunno, all of us?”

Keith paused, eyes flicking between Pidge and the hall ahead. “Define weird.”

“Like, uhm, romantic?”

Keith’s turn to laugh.

“Why, think there was?”

The way he asked that was relieving. She shrugged. “Just want to know any gossip I’m missing out on, I suppose.”

“Oh, then I have that. Not romantic, but a few months back, Lance started a stupid bet against me on how fast he could chug this alien drink that was ridiculously spicy…”

Pidge didn’t mean to tune out Keith’s story, but she was really, infinitely relieved by Keith’s answer. He answered so honestly, so transparently, that maybe the strange flickering memories that swam in her head were just from dreams or something else. Maybe she was just imagining the memory of holding someone’s hand, of kissing that someone.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL so quick thing about the keith and pidge part... i hope you're all proud i didn't go in the direction of "pidge thinks her romantic whatnots were with keith" because... honestly... i have no reason or want to throw that kind of drama in, lolol
> 
> SO UH, YEAH  
> next time:  
> keith and pidge throw punches.  
> lance cracks a dumb joke and makes a decision.  
> the paladins find out about the relationship.
> 
> can i promise an update... in the next 24 hours tho.... uh  
> we'll see?!  
> thank you for reading! i'm glad everyone likes the story thus far :")


	5. Kind of a Low Blow to Aim for the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA HEY.... i have a gift for you in my end note just wanted to let you know. enjoy this chapter! i like this chapter! it has JOKES

Why did it have to be him?

Keith was, for the most part, extremely anxious. Pidge wouldn’t stop asking questions. And she had a lot of questions.

“So we’re… arms?” Pidge had asked, stretching on the floor of the training deck, trying as hard as possible to reach her toes. Keith nodded.

“Yeah. If you ask me, it’s pretty…”

“Handy?”

Keith made a mental note to punch her for that later, but at the moment, he laughed. It was nice to talk to Pidge again, Keith realized. The last two weeks without her felt strangely empty. The paladins, Coran, Allura… they weren’t functioning at their best without her. Especially not that idiot in blue.

He had walked in on him that first night, leaning against Pidge’s stasis pod, fiddling with a sketchpad.

_ “What are you doing up this late?” He had asked. It was three in the morning, at least. _

_ “Could ask you the same.” Lance wasn’t really paying attention. _

_ “Are you waiting for Pidge to wake up?” _

_ Lance froze in his movements, glancing up from the pad in his hands. And although Keith could admit that he and Lance got along about as well as, well, fire and ice, he couldn’t have felt more bad for him in that moment. It was a while before Lance spoke again. _

_ “Just don’t want her to wake up alone.” _

Keith had left him, but not until he was sure Lance fell asleep against the pod and the raven-haired boy got to drape a blanket over him. Lance was an idiot.

But he was his friend.

“Keith?” Pidge had asked, snapping the teen from his thoughts. She gazed at him curiously, and had been wrapping the hoodie she was wearing snugly around her waist. Keith blinked.

“Uh?”

“I was asking… what are we supposed to be doing?”

“Oh,” Keith cleared his throat, looking at nothing in particular. “Activate training dummies.”

A set of four dummies materialized out of the ground, and Pidge let out a surprised gasp. There was a twinkle in her eye as she strode up to one, touching the plastic, lolling her head to the side as she inspected it.

“This ship’s _ incredible.” _ She said calmly, turning back to face Keith. “I wish I never forgot any of it.”

Keith didn’t respond immediately. Instead he focused his gaze on another dummy, rushing up to it and striking it in the chest with the heel of his palm. A left hook. A hard roundhouse kick to the head. He paused, looking over at Pidge, who watched him with curiosity, admiration, and a tinge of jealousy.

“Is there anything you  _ do _ remember?”

A flush on her face. She turned back to face the dummy she was inspecting, stepping back and throwing a punch into it. “Nothing important.”

“Hey, remembering something when you’ve got amnesia’s pretty important.”

She shrugged, throwing another fist, harder this time. “Do you wanna really know?”

“If you want to tell me. Won’t push it, though.” Punch.

“You’ll think it’s weird.” Punch.

“Believe me, I’ve seen and heard a lot of weird things.” Punch.

Pidge slammed her fist hard into the dummy. “I remember holding hands.”

Keith had pulled his fist back, ready to nail another one into the dummy, but stopped. He turned his head slowly to face her, eyes scrutinizing her face. She was staring blankly into the plastic, her fist trembling, fingers uncurling to lay her palm flat on it's surface.

“You think it’s weird.” Pidge confirmed, and Keith cleared his throat.

“No. That’s a good start, though.”

“Is it? Cause I think it’s just making me more frustrated.” She pulled her hand back, forming another fist, and throwing it hard into the dummy. “I’m glad we’re punching things, though. It’s cathartic.”

“I know, right?” Keith was pleased, turning back to land another blow on the unyielding surface. “So you remember holding hands.”

“Yeah. Pretty cool, right? Apparently we’ve been saving the universe from an evil empire and all I remember is--” Punch. “--holding someone’s--” Punch. “--stupid hand.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, landing another blow before stepping away. A pause.

“And flying.”

“Flying?” Keith asked quietly. Pidge nodded.

“Piloting a lion. My lion,” Pidge whispered, and she gave Keith a quick glance. “It’s faint. But I remembered that. Just now.”

Pidge released another fist onto the dummy. Satisfied, she turned to Keith fully.

“Punching is cathartic.” Pidge says.

He smiles.

“You can also say it’s handy.”

 

_ “Behind you!” _

_ Pidge leapt into immediate action at the call from Lance, spinning around to face the automaton, swiftly plunging her bayard into the metal side. A burst of electricity. The automaton fizzled to a halt. She whipped her head back around to grin at the Blue Paladin, who grinned just as wide back. _

_ “Focus, you two!” Shiro suddenly shouted, and to both of their surprise, Pidge was suddenly lifted, and the room did a full turn before she landed hard on her back. _

_ “That totally wasn’t fair, Shiro!” Lance yelped, his bayard transforming itself into its other form-- a laser gun. He fired one, two shots at the robot. One miss. One hit. An arm clattered off its shoulder. Pidge sat up in time to see the automaton about to take over him and-- _

_ A fire of the grappling hook mechanism in her bayard. The line entangling the automaton, and another electric pulse was shot out of it. It crumbled into a useless heap. Pidge let out a relieved sigh, standing up off the ground as the simulation ended. The pair locked eyes. _

_ His smile widened. They forgot where they were. And Pidge was weightless. _

_ “Put me down, oh my gosh,  _ Lance--!”

_ “No! No way! That was too awesome! You just came out of nowhere with your cute little bayard and just  _ zzzzt! _ A-and--” Lance had spun her in the air a couple of times before dropping her, arms wrapping around her waist and stumbling along. Pidge let out a laugh, twisting against him, his weight pushing her downward. _

_ “Get off! Lance!” _

_ “As if! Not until you say I did totally awesome too. And that you love me.” _

_ “You did  _ absolutely _ awesome, now let go, doofus!” _

_ “Sorry, didn’t hear that second part!” _

_ They tussled for a bit, collapsing into the training deck floor in a heap of infectious laughter, cheeks burning red. _

_ Someone cleared their throat. _

_ The laughter died. _

_ A green and blue paladin turning to face the rest of the paladins, who were staring intently at them. Shiro was raising an eyebrow, hands on his hips. Keith had his chin in hand, obscuring view of his mouth. Hunk was gazing at them, eyes wide. _

_ Instantly, Lance sat up and clocked Pidge’s shoulder. _

_ “Ow! What the hell, Lance?” _

_ “Good work today, Pidge! Wowie, you sure showed those robots who the boss is.” _

_ She socked him, harder. _

_ “Okay, _ ouch. _ That wasn’t even remotely fair.” _

_ “You started it.” _

_ “You don’t have proof.” _

_ “Guys,” Hunk interrupted the couple, eyes flicking between them. “Uh, we’re… all still here?” _

_ Shiro was uncomfortably quiet, and Lance had half a mind to lay down again and forget he was being scrutinized at all by the guy. Then, he spoke. _

_ “Something you two want to share?” _

_ Lance exchanged a glance with Pidge, who was staring up at Shiro, brows furrowed. His stomach did somersaults as she did so. There was conflict in her face. One half, clearly wanting to tell Shiro, the other, worried about how he’d react. _

_ “Pidge and I are dating. Have been the last, say, two months?” _

_ Pidge had whipped her head around to stare at Lance, jaw dropping. Lance didn’t say anything, just looked up at Shiro, a smile on his face. _

_ “Oh. I thought you were just blackmailing each other.” Keith suddenly said. Hunk let out a wheeze. _

_ “I can’t believe this. I was trying to set you guys up for  _ months _ in the Garrison and you just start going out without me noticing? Or  _ helping?”

_ Pidge felt her face flush, and she glared at Hunk. “That’s what you were trying to do?” _

_ “Lance thought you were cute for forever! I was just trying to speed things along!” _

_ “Woah,” Lance piped up, holding his hands up defensively. “Forever is a long time and a total false accusation.” _

_ “Pidge, I have so much to tell you. About how much Lance wouldn’t shut up about you.” _

_ “How about we _ don’t  _ share that with Pidge?” _

_ “How about we do. Cause right now, you owe me big time.” _

_ “Dude, come on!” _

_ “Guys,” Shiro suddenly piped up before anyone could shout anymore, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Can you not start a fight right now?” _

_ The kids quieted, staring at him. Then Lance opened his mouth. _

_ “Right. So, Shiro, do I have permission to date your daugh--” _

_ A foot was placed against his chest, and Lance was forced back into the floor of the training deck. Shiro didn’t kick him down hard, but laid just enough pressure on his ribs that it was uncomfortable. Shiro’s expression was unfazed. _

_ “Shut up, doofus.” _

_ His foot let off, and Shiro stepped away, and Lance caught a playful light in his eye. “Fifteen minute break, then we’re starting the second round of simulation.” _

_ Shiro wandered off to get them water pouches, and for a second, none of the teens moved. Then Pidge let out a snort. _

_ “So, how much would Lance talk about me, exactly?” _

 

“Okay, so how about,” Lance stood up straighter, looking directly at Hunk. “What’s up, my beautiful girlfriend? Did I mention we’re dating?”

Hunk’s frown deepened.

“Dude, you can’t just open with that.”

“Buddy, I have no idea what I’m supposed to open with. You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Uh, you just say ‘hi Pidge, can we talk?’ and once she agrees, just tell the truth.”

“Wow. That sounds immensely difficult.”

“Only one making it difficult is you.”

Lance let out a groan, running a hand through his hair and flopping face down into Hunk’s bed. He was right, obviously. Lance couldn’t think of a time when Hunk wasn’t totally right. The guy just knew things, he supposed. Things in his gut.

“I’m just freaking out here, Hunk. Like, a lot.”

Hunk placed a reassuring hand on his back, giving him a couple of pats like a doting mother. Lance squirmed beneath the touch.

“I know, buddy. But come on! Once you say it, things probably won’t get worse!”

Lance felt his chest tightened, and he twisted his head to look Hunk in the eye.

“So, if she realizes she doesn’t want to date me anymore?”

“Don’t act like that, man. If that happens, it happens. At least she’ll know.”

“Not helping.”

“Sorry. Want to hear something more positive?”

“Please.”

“She probably won’t hate you.”

Lance let out another groan. “I guess not.”

Of course she wouldn’t. They were friends, long before Voltron. And, Lance began to convince himself, that if Pidge wanted to break things off… that was okay. She’d know, at least, what she was missing. And she wasn’t obligated to fall in love with him magically once she heard the truth. Pidge was her own person. He wasn’t doing this for them, but for her.

And it hurt. It really did. He wasn’t going to lie. The idea of Pidge and him, not being anything… hurt.

Hypothetical break-ups were hard. But hurting Pidge’s feelings by keeping silent…

That was harder to stomach.

But he was way too anxious. Too unprepared. Not at all ready.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell her. Yet.”

Hunk groaned. “Dude, if you back out now, are you ever going to actually tell her?”

“Some day. I just… want to protect her feelings a bit longer.”

“Protect  _ her _ feelings? Or protect  _ yours?” _

Lance fell quiet again. Stupid Hunk and his stupid words of wisdom.

He couldn’t hurt Pidge’s feelings, Lance decided, quietly. He rolled over, looking up at Hunk’s ceiling, feeling his eyelids growing heavy.

“Okay. I’ll do it. Tomorrow.”

“Will you really?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

Hunk let out a low whistle. “I’m really proud of you, Lance. What’s the worst that could really happen?”

And Lance gave the boy a mischievous grin, and Hunk regretted saying anything.

“Well, it might just cost Team Voltron an arm and a leg.”

Hunk slammed a pillow over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here is your gift!](https://67.media.tumblr.com/6020dfa76b6a1b073c638b2a332acb79/tumblr_oeocjcnhms1rxw2cwo1_1280.png)  
>  it's drawings. of the babies. yay?! (i wanted 2 doodle... for my own fic... so there... also give kind of an idea on what kind of outfit pidge "tired af teenager" holt was wearin)  
> thank you for reading!!!!  
> next time:  
> -lance is honest  
> -things get awkward  
> -i'm terrible at plot


	6. Written in the Stars and Vague Journal Entries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rubs hands together] enjoooooy

Hunk couldn’t keep quiet, Lance deduced, as he sat with the others for lunch the next day. It was after spending a couple of hours on the training deck, and he was sore and tired. Lance had looked up from the plate in front of him and caught Allura’s eye.

She was smiling. Not in a suspicious way, but a radiantly warm smile. A twinkle in her eye. No longer was there any hint, earlier, that she was worried about him. Lance began to suspect something. Either she knew he was going to confess to Pidge the truth… or she was just unusually happy. And Allura didn’t always get so unusually happy.

Lance dipped a spoon into the food goo, flicking his eyes away from Allura to scan the others at the table. Hunk gave a more worried smile. Keith and Shiro were talking about training, as they usually did, with Hunk butting in now and again. Pidge was quiet.

Then again, Pidge had come to training. The immediate day after waking from the stasis pod. Shiro had insisted she took a break, but Pidge was even more insistent in getting to train with everyone.

“I lost my memory, big whup,” Pidge had said, looking over the Paladin armor that she couldn’t remember, twirling the helmet between her palms. “Doesn’t mean that should stop me from training.”

“You might get hurt more,” Shiro had warned, and Pidge rolled her eyes, removing her spectacles and shoving her head into the helmet.

“That’s why it’s training. I don’t want to be a sitting duck today, Shiro. Let me have this.”

And Shiro did, rather reluctantly. Pidge did lag behind more than the rest, but the rest of the paladins knew to help her out when she needed it. A tip on how to kick properly, how to fall properly. Telling her what they see her do with her bayard. Alerting her to immediate dangers. It took a few tries, a little longer than they hoped, to get Pidge back into the swing of the fight. Her movements became less forced and jaunty and more fluid, and it was almost like Pidge had never forgotten anything at all.

She was still part of the team.

Lance scrutinized her for a second, sitting next to Keith at the table, eyes trained on her food. She had found her windbreaker, Lance saw, as she sat there with the jacket unzipped, her legs crossed in the chair. She tied her hair back, and Lance, of course, found her incredibly pretty.

His stomach twisted into hard knots.

Lance continued to force his way through his food.

 

Pidge went back to her room after lunch, flopping onto her bed with a satisfied groan, legs hanging over the edge of the mattress. She was tired, achy. She must’ve really been out of practice.

It was last night, when Pidge had found her windbreaker. She had gone back to the Green Lion’s hangar, eager to get inside and look around. The familiar green-and-white jacket had been lying in a neat heap on a desk near the mechanical beast, and Pidge was grateful to find it again. She didn’t ditch the hoodie immediately, instead folded the jacket over her arms, waved goodbye to the lion, and dashed to her room. There, she hung it haphazardly on the chair by her personal desk. There was a clattering sound.

A journal.

She recognized it immediately and scooped it up off the floor, inspecting the leather-bound diary that she began to keep after the Kerberos mission went missing. Her heart sank heavily. She had put it on the desk before going to sleep.

And it was still there, mocking her from the edge of the cluttered desk, staring her down. Pidge frowned at it, a soft growl emitting from her throat. She wanted to open it. A lot. She wanted to read all of its contents, because as far as Pidge could tell, the diary had been written in since she last remembered. A lot of new pages, pages full of information, maybe things that could help get her memories back faster…

But at the same time, something felt weird about it. Like she’d be reading someone else’s diary, invading Pidge Gunderson’s life. She didn’t know what was in there, and that was terrifying to her. Pidge must’ve seen and done scary things as a Paladin, right? And not to mention the mysterious romance she felt she was having…

A knock on the door saved Pidge from reminiscing, thinking too hard. She smacked her cheeks to get rid of the blush.

“Who is it?”

“Just a friend,” Shiro’s voice came through. Pidge slipped off the mattress, cursing the ache in her thighs, crossing the room to open the door for him.

“Not sure if we’re friends, but okay.” Pidge said when she found Shiro on the other side, arms crossed, a warm smile on his face. She sauntered back to bed, flopping into the warmth and rolling over to face him. “Care to sit?”

Shiro considered the chair Pidge was referring to, seeing it covered in books. He snorted, shaking his head. “No. Just wanted to see how you were doing, is all.”

“How I’m doing.”

“Yeah. You’ve been through hell and back. I know the feeling. Making sure you’re okay.”

“You can’t possibly know the feeling,” Pidge said, and Pidge snapped her mouth shut, forgetting how blunt she could be. Shiro, however, didn’t take offense to it.

“Right. Forget you forgot.”

“Didn’t mean it that way.”

“Didn’t think you did. But, ah, I do know. Was a Galra prisoner for a while, lost most of my memory from my time there.”

Shiro had gone quiet, and Pidge gulped. “And?”

Hesitation. “I-- we-- were taken during the Kerberos mission, Pidge. Your father, brother, and I. I don’t know if you knew that. I mean, I know Allura said you knew we were looking for them, but…”

“You’re Shirogane.” Pidge whispered, and Shiro stopped to stare at her. She was still lying down, eyes wide with lucidity, hands clasped around her small frame. Shiro bit his lip.

“I am. And you should know that I’m still sorry. And I want to find your family… for a while, they were my family too. A-and I’m your family, too, Pidge.”

Pidge didn’t respond, flicking her gaze to the diary.

She wondered if she wrote anything new about Matt and Dad in here, about Shiro.

“Okay.” Pidge whispered. “I… yeah.”

“Lot to take in, huh? Should’ve waited a little to tell you.”

“No, no. It’s okay, really. I’m glad you told me. It makes a lot of this easier to stomach.”

Shiro stepped forward, giving Pidge’s arm a squeeze, a pat on her back.

“I’m glad. So, doing any better?”

“In light of that news or in general?”

“Either.”

“Not doing any worse. Things are coming back. Fuzzy, but I’m remembering more.”

“That’s really, really great. Continue to keep us updated on that, alright?”

Pidge nodded, and with that, Shiro gave her an affectionate pat on the head, mussing her hair, before quietly leaving. She watched his back exit through the doorframe, and the door slide shut behind him. Her eyes rested, again, on the journal.

Her hand reached out for it.

 

_ She had said it first. _

_ The two were in the training deck, late at night, alone. Pidge wanted Lance to help her with sparring. Lance was nervous, as any boy would be, when their crush asked to spend time together. _

_ “You’re pulling back,” Lance had noted, and that was enough for Pidge to send another throw, harder. It connected with his abdomen, and Lance exhaled, hard. _

_ “Oh, crap! Sorry, Lance.” _

_ “No biggie. Just need to breathe.” Lance wheezed out, weakly raising a hand to give her a thumbs-up. “Good job, though, on not pulling your punches this time.” _

_ Pidge snorted, grabbing his hand with hers. He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart skip a beat. She pushed him back with her grip, causing the boy to stumble and land on the mat. _

_ “Rude.” _

_ Pidge let out a louder laugh. Lance really, really liked her laugh. _

_ “So, I’m curious,” Lance said, glancing over the girl once she had regained composure, sitting next to him on the mat. She handed him a water pouch. “Why’d you ask me to help?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “Like, I’m not the best or most experienced fighter. You could’ve totally asked Shiro.” _

_ “Didn’t feel like asking Shiro.” She sipped water through her straw, scrutinizing him. “Why do you seem so unsatisfied by that answer?” _

_ “It’s ‘cause I am. You ask Shiro, for like, everything.” _

_ “Because Shiro’s nice enough to do everything.” _

_ “Ah, so you don’t think I’m nice enough?” _

_ She elbowed him. “Don’t be an ass and put words in my mouth. I was just thinking you were cool.” _

_ “Aw, you think I’m cool?” _

_ “Marginally.” _

_ The two fell quiet again. Lance went to twiddling his thumbs, eyes scanning everywhere but blatantly ignoring looking at the girl next to him. She was giving off warmth, somehow, like a sun. Pidge was definitely like a sun. So bright, so warm, so… _

_ “I asked you because I wanted to spend time with you.” _

_ What? _

_ “Sorry, come again?” _

_ Pidge sighed, and she stared straight ahead, her chin lowering to meet her knees. “I said, I asked you to help me because I wanted to spend time with you. There. Satisfied, now?” _

_ Spend time with him? Him, Lance? _

_ “Are you… trying to make up for all the fun we could’ve had at the Garrison?” _

_ “Ugh, kind of?” Pidge managed, shrugging her shoulders. “A-and something else. But you’re kind of a blockhead.” _

_ “Gee, thanks.” _

_ “Sorry. Just an observation.” _

_ “Sure. But what’s this something else?” _

_ She hesitated for a few ticks. “You’ll laugh.” _

_ “You don’t know that.” _

_ “I don’t know. I’m making an educated guess based on observation.” _

_ “Are you… basing my reaction on the scientific method?” _

_ “Good to know you paid attention to  _ something _ in school.” _

_ “Har har. But seriously, Pidge, I promise I won’t laugh.” _

_ “If you do, though?” _

_ “Feel free to shoot me into space.” _

_ Pidge turned her head to face him, frowning. Lance couldn’t tell in the dim lighting, but was Pidge… blushing? _

_ “Okay,” she sat up straighter, staring at him and not staring at him at all. “Then, I guess you should know. That, uh… I like you.” _

_ Lance felt himself falter. _

_ “Like, you know. Like-like. Like, romantically? Honestly when I came to terms that I had a crush on you I was just like, woah, you know? Like that’s so weird? But I can’t really explain it, all I know is that I like you and when I see you or think about you I get all these butterflies and it’s so confusing and I wish I could just, ugh, get you out of my head--” _

_ A short burst of laughter made Pidge freeze, and her eyes narrowed at Lance, whose hands clasped hard over his mouth. _

_ “You laughed,” she said, softly. _

_ Lance exhaled, hard. “I-- Yeah. I did. Sorry, really! It just slipped out.” _

_ “Did it, now?” _

_ “Yeah, really. You were just rambling.” _

_ “I tend to do that when I’m nervous.” _

_ “It was cute.” _

_ Pidge wanted to sock him in his stupid, cute face. Lance was smiling, so full of admiration and warmth. _

_ “Actually, that makes things way easier for me,” Lance said, and Pidge stiffened. “I’ve been thinking, you know. Like, wow, Pidge is super pretty and smart and I can’t take my eyes off of her. And it was weird for me, too, because, hell, I don’t think I’ve ever totally liked a girl the way I like you, Pidge.” _

_ She didn’t notice he was getting closer, not until their noses touched. Pidge let out the breath she had been holding. _

_ “I’m different somehow.” _

_ “You are. You’re… something different. And it’s honestly driving me up a wall.” _

_ “I didn’t think people could have that effect on others.” _

_ “You’re ruining the moment by saying that. And I was just about to ask you to date me.” _

_ “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” _

_ Lance snorted, and Pidge took the opportunity to lean forward, head tilted, just enough to brush her lips against his. It was short-lived and not really a kiss, Pidge figured, but that was made up for not even a second later when Lance came back to meet her. That one was soft, quiet, peaceful in the dim light of the training deck half past midnight. _

_ It was nice. _

 

Dinner had just ended.

Lance found her in the training deck after, and he couldn’t even believe the coincidence there. Of all the places she could be for him to break the news…

Maybe he could call it a night. Quit while he was ahead. Save it for another time.

Lance began to turn away.

He could hear Hunk in his head, silently judging him.

Stupid Hunk.

Lance inhaled, exhaled.

_ Just get it over with, Lance. _

_ The worst that could happen is that she’s just super angry at you. _

_ Yeah. _

Lance walked into the training deck.

Pidge was, surprisingly, not training. She was just sitting in the middle of the spacious room, eyes glazing over every corner. She made a note in the journal in her lap, and Lance’s knuckles turned white at the sight.

He knew that journal. Diary. Whatever.

Does she already know?

She should, if she’s read it, know.

Would it be so bad to hope that maybe, just maybe, Pidge didn’t write anything about them in her diary?

(A little.)

Lance cleared his throat. He rehearsed this. A lot.

Pidge looked up quickly from her notes, staring at him. If she knew, she would’ve had a more intense reaction. Then again, Pidge had a pretty good poker face.

“Hi Lance,” Pidge said calmly, head dropping again to scrutinize the book, pen tapping against her chin.

“Hey, Pidge. What’re you up to?”

“Found my diary. Trying to catch up on what I missed. Hope it can help me get my memories back.”

“That’s… that’s really cool. Whatever helps, helps, am I right?” His heart was beating so fast, Lance was willing to bet a lot of money that she could hear it from where she was.

Pidge smiled, looking back up at him. “Absolutely. So, what’s up?”

“What’s up?”

“Yeah. Do you need to use the floor or something? I can go.”

“Haha, no. Nope! I’m good. Actually, Pidge,” Here it comes. Back on track. He didn’t get the lead in his middle school play for not rehearsing. “I was hoping we could, uh, talk.”

Smooth. Now, she just had to agree.

Pidge let the journal close, eyebrows raising. “Sure thing.”

Super smooth.

Lance stepped towards her, his heart threatening to beat right out of its cage. He was terrified. Terrified that he’d tell her the truth and she’d react badly and all the waiting and hoping he did would just crumble into pieces. But he couldn’t think of that. He had to be confident, right? He was Lance! Lance had his shit together!

Mostly.

He sat himself down in front of Pidge, who watched him with curiosity. A small smile. Lance swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Hi,” he managed. Pidge smiled, wider.

“Hi, Lance.”

“So. Nice weather down here.”

“There’s no weather in space, Lance. It’s a vacuum. I mean, if you count ‘cold,’ as weather, then sure.”

“Ugh. Your nerd brain reeks.”

“And you, Lance, are as verbose as ever.”

They stopped for a second, looking at each other, before laughter bubbled out of the teens. Lance could feel the knots in his stomach loosen. He almost forgot about being worried, forgot about being terrified. After all, it was Pidge.

“I want to tell you something.” Lance finally said, once the laughter died. Pidge raised a brow. “I mean, it’s an important something. About what you missed in the last year and a half. We… I didn’t want to tell you yet.”

“Why not?”

“I was worried it’d freak you out. So can you… can you promise not to freak out?”

“Lance, if you tell me not to freak out, I’m probably going to freak out.”

Lance felt tears sting the back of his eyes. His hands dropped into his lap, forming fists, nails digging into his palms.

“Lance, are you… okay?”

No turning back, now.

“I missed you, so much, okay? Those two weeks waiting for you to stumble out… those were the hardest days to wake up to. And you’re here, and, damn, I’m so glad you are. But you don’t remember. And that sucks, too. Probably sucks more.”

Pidge’s eyes widened in concern, a hand reaching out to touch his arm.

“Lance, what… are you okay?”

“I am. Really, I am! Pidge, I…”

He hesitated, feeling arms around his shoulders, squeezing tight. Knees digging into his thighs. Soft breath against his neck. A gentle scent of coconut.

She was hugging him.

And just as quickly as she did that, she pulled away. Fidgeted with her glasses. Her face completely, almost unchanged. Pidge watched Lance, carefully.

“You looked like you needed a hug.”

“I… yeah. I think I did.” He was dumbfounded, mostly, by the gesture. Lance searched her face, for just any sign that she knew, that she’d make it easier for him and just come out and say that she already knew and they’d go back to normal and it’d be totally fine.

But there wasn’t. And Lance knew better than to pretend things would be normal and fine.

Rip it off like a bandaid.

“Pidge, we’re dating.”

It was probably a good sign that she hadn’t hit him. Lance continued, without looking up at her. “We’ve been together about… four months, I want to say. I don’t know if that helped or made things worse but… You know, now.”

Pidge was silent.

Lance stole a look up at her. She was sitting, back straight, eyes watching him. Her expression was blank. He swallowed.

“Pidge, say something.”

She wet her lips. Nodded her head.

“Huh,” it came out as a whisper, and her shoulders slumped. Pidge sat harder down on the mat, looking down at her hands. “Huh.”

“Good ‘huh’ or bad ‘huh’?”

Pidge shrugged. “I just didn’t expect…”

“Expect what?”

“Didn’t expect it to be you. I mean, I should’ve, though. It makes the most sense. I mean, you saved my life, and we were always friends, and everyone was acting so weird about it when I woke up. About you. Like you were hiding something.”

Lance felt himself shrink at those last words.

“Do you hate me right now?” Lance managed. “Like, I get it if you do.”

Pidge had fallen quiet again. “I don’t think I do.”

“Good thing or bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” her gaze focused back on his face, studying him. She wet her lips, again, opening her mouth slowly. “I think I need some time to think. Sorry. You probably… probably expected a better reaction. Like me jumping into your arms and proposing or something, right?”

It hurt to laugh, but Lance did anyway. “Actually, I was expecting a lot worse. This was… this wasn’t bad, Pidge. I… I totally understand. You’re one of my best friends and I just want the best for you and for you to feel better.”

“And… you don’t care if I remember us being a thing or not?”

“Of course I do. But you’re… dealing with a lot.”

Pidge nodded solemnly. “I am.”

The pair fell into silence, and Lance took it as his cue to leave.

“I’m going to get going, now. Give you space.”

“Uh huh.”

“I… Pidge, I’m sorry. For not saying anything immediately.”

“It’s okay. I think I understand. Thank you.”

Lance hesitated at the doors to the training deck, looking over his shoulder at the girl, who still sat in the middle of the floor, eyes downcast. He cleared his throat.

“If it means anything, Pidge. You still rock my world.”

She let out a soft laugh.

“I think you’re still rocking mine. Maybe. I haven’t figured that out, yet.”

And that was enough for Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA. GREAT. THAT HAPPENED.  
> "but amanda," some1 cries, "lance confessed but the fic isn't over?!?!?"  
> heck no. we have things to do. lance and pidge have things to do. everyone's got things to do.  
> i hope pidge's reaction was... okay, haha. i didn't want this to go an angsty route. it's a feel-good fic. it's a frustrating-but-eventually-feels-good feel-good fic. i did not intend to take this in any other direction  
> SO WHAT'S NEXT? WELL:  
> -pidge organizes her thoughts.  
> -and talks to lance.  
> wow, what a chapter. but it'll be good. more flashbacks. more me, crying on the floor cause it's the middle of the night and this is what i do with my life. thank you a ton for reading! <3


	7. Forgetting What's Forgotten and a Lesson in Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was hard to write, haha. we're entering some extreme fluff territory. i've got class soon tho so i'm gonna shuffle on out and hit the hay.  
> enjoy...?!??!

She had to turn the page eventually.

Something, however, was really keeping Pidge from doing just that.

She ran a hand through her hair, gripping at a fistful and tugging helplessly. Let out a sigh to relieve some of the weight that was smothering her chest. One hand wrapped tightly around her journal, knuckles turning white as she stared at the bottom of the current page she was on.

_ “No luck getting info out of the Galra database this time,” _ her small, exact handwriting read.  _ “Ten times more infuriating than trying to look things up through the Garrison database. But don’t worry. I’m going to find you guys.” _

Her brother and dad were still missing.

She almost forgot.

Well, that was saying the least. She _ did _ forget. She forgot a year and a half of trying to find them, only to find out through her past writings that she wasn’t any closer than she was a year and a half before.

It was like a punch to the gut. A mean, mean punch to the gut.

She slapped the journal shut in defeat, flopping back into bed, the journal pressed to her chest and constricting her breath like a brick. Her heart was thumping. Her eyes were growing heavy.

Pidge had a lot to think about.

_ “Pidge, we’re dating.” _

The words echoed in her head, glaringly reminding her of her friend’s--boyfriend’s?-- confession from earlier that evening. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t have time to worry about this right now. Not after realizing how far behind she was in trying to find her family.

This wasn’t part of the plan. At all. Romance was never included in the equation-- becoming a pilot of an alien robot was never included, either. The plan was always infiltrate the Garrison as Pidge Gunderson, hack into the system without raising suspicion, avoid her strangely endearing fighter pilot and warm-hugs-all-smiles mechanic, find Matt and Dad--

She thought he was  _ endearing. _

Gross.

“Okay,” Pidge whispered aloud to no one in particular. “Pros and cons lists always help in times like these.”

She wasn’t sure what situation she was thinking about as she stared up at the ceiling of her room, recounting ideas in her head.

Cons: Matt and Dad are still out there. This wasn’t included in the plan. She still was missing an entire year and a half of her life. Lance.

Pros: Matt and Dad are still out there. Cool robot. Lance.

Her hands balled up and slammed against her mattress, the soft bed absorbing her fists as if trying to tell her to relax. Then again, how could she? Pidge was, in all senses of the word, terrified. About everything. Her family. Her… boyfriend?

Is that what he was?

_ “Pidge, we’re dating.” _

“Why won’t you just… shut up?” Pidge grumbled.

In all honesty, Pidge didn’t know how to take the news. On one hand, it did make sense. It was Lance, obviously. If she had to pick anyone, anyone at all… it would be him. Always.

On the other hand, she can’t remember any of it.

Sometimes she felt the ghost of a touch, on her wrist, her lower back, her shoulders, face.

The electric pulse of a kiss. Faint. The memories were there, she knew, but they were fuzzy and unattainable and out of her reach, just like Lance always was.

(Not that she ever thought of him in a romantic sense, of course.)

And what would even make Lance return her feelings (if she had them)? What was their relationship like? Why her, when Pidge figured Lance would fall for Allura or Keith or--

Her hands were clasped over the journal again, fingers plucking at the corner of the cover. She bit her lip.

_ I had to have written something. _

She didn’t know, actually, if any of her questions would be answered by the journal. Hell, the journal was used, up until a certain point, to log Pidge’s progress on finding her family and discover the truth about the Kerberos mission. There wasn’t any way it became a diary, right?

But, Pidge figured, if she and Lance could end up dating… what was there to say her log journal wasn’t also a diary?

She sat up again, flipping through pages in earnest, scanning the pages for his name or romantic keywords or anything.

Nine months ago.

_ Lance thought he could take Shiro down in a fight. Got his ass handed to him within seconds. Almost felt bad for the guy. _

Pidge was relieved that she never referred to the journal as a diary, or wrote super long winded paragraphs full of heart and poetry. It was never her style.

Eight months ago.

_ Lance tried to spin his bayard all cool and smacked himself in the face when it transformed into a gun midspin. I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard since Matt got gum stuck in his hair when he was fifteen and Mom had to shave all his hair off. _

Illustration included. She wasn’t the best artist, either.

Seven months ago.

_ Had another nightmare. I miss you guys. _

Oh.

_ Lance was nice enough to stay up and talk with me, again. I think he’s homesick, too. I mean, how couldn’t he be? I know everyone else is. _

_ I’m kind of glad we’re all homesick. Is that mean to say? _

_ Makes me feel a lot more at home here on the ship. _

She turned the page, slowly, to the next entry, dated a couple of days later.

I _ think we’re just having post-nightmare parties now. Sleepovers? I dunno. I didn’t think I’d want to hang out with him as much as I do now. He’s… really, really cool. _

Six months.

_ Lance’s been acting weirder than usual. Note to self: ask him about it later. _

Five months.

_ Oh, quiznak. _

Four months.

_ Note to self: When Matt and Dad are found, 100% do NOT mention first kiss. Or the whole boyfriend thing. Ever. _

Three.

_ Coran and Allura know. No idea how to tell the rest of the team. Embarrassing. _

Two.

_ Guess who used another stupid pickup line while I was working!! Not to mention, he actually PICKED ME UP. Lance, if you’re reading this, by the way, I will kill you for that. _

Another crude illustration. Pidge let out a snort.

One.

_ Matt, Dad. _

_ I love you guys so much. And I miss you, so much. Didn’t think here, for a while, I’d ever be super happy again until I knew you two were safe. And we still don’t know where you are or if you are safe. _

_ But I think I’m super happy right now. You guys would want me to be. Yeah. _

_ We’ll still find you. But… I just wanted you to know that. _

_ That I’m really, really happy. _

Pidge let the journal shut in her lap. Her fingers formed a tent, pressing up hard against her lips, eyes trained on the other side of the room, her stomach doing somersaults. Tears pricked behind her lids.

She inhaled a shaky breath. Exhaled as well, but a small whimper trailed the air. Quickly, her hands snapped up to catch the tears before they dared to drip further, terrified of what the affirmations were if she let them.

She had some facts. Matt and Dad were still missing. She was still, reasonably so, heartbroken. Lost. Angry. Angry at the Garrison for covering it up, angry at herself for not sticking to her plan and so, so angry that she couldn’t remember a damn thing except _ him. _

And yet in that year she just couldn’t remember, whatever hole in her heart that still ached for her father and brother was patched up the best it could be. By some dumb, egotistical, womanizing butthead-- though, really, it probably wasn’t all him.

After all, it takes more than a kiss to heal a broken heart.

Her chest began to ache a little.

She couldn’t remember all of it. The moments she took the time to scribble down in her notes. The time she shared, on this ship, in her lion, on distant planets with the others. She couldn’t remember feeling any less hopeless and vengeful as she did a year and a half ago, searching for the truth about Kerberos.

And yet, she had. In another time, Pidge had filled that emptiness in her heart with unconditional love from people she barely knew.

And this time, her hands didn’t reach up to stop herself from crying.

 

Pidge didn’t recall falling asleep, if she were to add that to the list of things she couldn’t remember.

She knew that she wouldn’t forget the wake-up call, though. The sing-songy voice that filled her room, the insistent knocking on the doorframe. Two people bickering.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and Pidgey!”

“Dude, ‘Pidgey’ and ‘bakey’ do not rhyme.”

“Okay, but we don’t even have bacon.”

“Don’t have eggs, either.”

“Wake me up in another hour,” Pidge protested against the assailants in her room. A gentle hand ran through her hair, a snort coming from the person.

“Aw, come on! It’s a new day! And you should treat this new day with unbridled optimism and joy, my Pidgerrito.”

“You don’t even like mornings.”

“Incorrect! Here’s something to jog your faulty memory. I love mornings. After I get a full night’s beauty rest and get a chance to exfoliate.”

Pidge raised her head from the pillow, turning slowly to face Lance, who was grinning madly in her direction. Hunk lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, almost embarrassed for the boy. Pidge frowned at him, finally registering the situation.

“Did you just call me a  _ Pidgerrito?” _

“And she’s up!” Lance announced to the boy in the door, clapping his hands together. Hunk rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. Pidge, grub’s on in the dining room. Lance and I have to head to the helm and assist Coran in cleaning or something. Come on, dude.”

Hunk sauntered out of the room, and Lance quipped an “in a minute!” as he did. The door slid shut, now unhindered by someone in the frame.

Pidge noticed Lance falling quiet.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, clearing her throat at him.

“So did you just bring Hunk to wingman you?”

A short, uncomfortable laugh from Lance, who sat down heavily on the edge of her mattress. “Kind of? Didn’t think I’d be so nervous to talk to you, again.”

“Why?”

“Feels like I’m back in weird ‘talking-to-my-crush’ limbo again. Where everything’s, yanno, awkward and hard to read?”

Pidge gave a curt nod, eyes falling to the journal that sat at her hip. She must’ve fallen asleep with it. A finger drummed on its cover.

“I, uh. I decided to read my journal. Most of it, last night.”

“Oh?” Lance turned his head, eyebrows raised at the girl.

She felt her heart hammering in her chest, again. Her voice lowered.

“I really missed out on a lot.”

Lance laughed again, this time less uncomfortable. “Understatement.”

“It really is.”

“So, what’d you think?”

It was Pidge’s turn, this time, to share an uncomfortable laugh.

“I thought it was really sad. Because I don’t remember any of it. I hope you never find out what this is like.”

There was a moment where Lance considered reaching over and taking her hand. To squeeze it, to reassure her. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way she wasn’t looking at him, but away. Maybe it was the way her voice cracked in her last few words. Maybe he was just… plain old scared.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, really. I’ve just… had a lot to think about. Still do.” She hesitated, and Lance waited with baited breath as Pidge shuffled closer to him, swinging her legs over the side of her bed to sit side-by-side. Pidge wrapped her arms around herself.

“I don’t think I can try remember everything on my own. Especially about whatever was happening between you and me. Like, that’s one of the harder things, I think.”

“Harder things to believe or harder things to remember?”

“Remember, dummy. Believing in it’s easy.”

Lance wouldn’t admit to her, just yet, how nice that was to hear.

“Lance,” Pidge continued, and Lance noted the way her voice cracked again. “I feel like a weird broken toy. A-and I don’t like admitting that I need help, or need anyone when things suck. But everything sucks a lot right now.”

“Relatable.”

An elbow into his side, weak. A soft laugh.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” A pause. “I think my memory’s coming back. It’s super slow. But it’s all still here and fuzzy. A-and I don’t think I want help recovering all of that. But I want help… living again. You know what I mean?”

“Not really?”

“I wrote something in my journal. A tiny thing addressed to Matt and my dad. I told them that I was really, really happy. And it’s so frustrating, because I can’t remember why. Why have I been so genuinely… you know, happy. Because right now, I feel like absolute shit and feel like everything’s just falling apart at the seams--”

Pidge stopped, suddenly, when the cracking became more obvious, the sharp change in pitch coming in at her last words. A hand lifted to rub at her cheek. Lance let out a breath, arms immediately reaching around to catch her shoulders, pull her closer to him. She was shaking. He was shaking. She let out a hiccup, an angry curse at herself, but Pidge didn’t resist his touch.

They sat there, quietly, waiting for Pidge to regain her composure. It didn’t take long.

She sniffed, face still in his chest. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, slowly. “You looked like you needed a hug.”

“Yeah. Right.” A laugh.

“You were saying something. About feeling like absolute shit.”

Another laugh. “I was. Sorry. I was going to ask you to help me, even though I think you’ve done a lot of that.”

“I’m not much of a guy looking to do favors, but whatever it is, Pidge, I’m here for you. Completely. You have me.”

Pidge had taken a fistful of Lance’s shirt, tugging it closer to her. Another shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I want to live in the past though. Especially not when I can’t remember it.”

“Fair.”

“I want to think ahead. Move forward. Try to, at least. Because, like, that’d make me a stronger person or whatever.”

Lance snorted. “Okay, cheeseball. Get on with it.”

“I’m building up to it,” Pidge pulled away from Lance to stare up into his face, and Lance smiled at the sight of her. The determined twinkle in her eye, the sly smile budding on her lips. “I want to move on, fully. I want to make new memories and learn new things and maybe relearn what I’ve forgotten. If I get my memories back along the way, that’s great. But I don’t want to be so stuck in time. I mean, it’s been a long time.

“So that’s my resolve that I just came up with. I want to keep going. I want to be great. And, you, Lance, are super important to this.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow at her, and Pidge continued.

“I don’t know what we had. A-and I’m not entirely sure what I want or anything right now. But I want to try. I want to be with you, I guess, is what I’m saying. Like a do-over.”

“Like a do-over,” Lance repeated. Pidge gave a curt nod.

“I-if you’ll have me, I mean.”

“Pidge. I would absolutely. I-I mean, this is… really not what I was expecting in my scenario-building.”

“Way worse or way better?”

“Way better. I think I have to throw up. In excitement.”

Pidge snorted, opening her mouth to speak before a voice shouted over the intercom.

“Lance! Where the quiznak are you?”

Coran. The two exchanged a glance. Lance cleared his throat.

“Uh, here? I’m on my way up. Promise.”

“You better be! These floors aren’t going to swab themselves!”

The voice cut out, and the pair exchanged glances. Lance cleared his throat, standing up.

“So, uh, duty calls.”

“Right. Of course. W-we can pick up on this later, I guess?”

“Y-yeah. Obviously. Just… yeah.”

A tick passed, the two staring at each other. Pidge cleared her throat.

“Uh. So, goodbye? How do we usually do this? Do I just kick you out? Or--”

“Pidge?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The request was sudden, and Pidge felt heat flare up on her face, and Lance, for a second, wanted to clock himself in the gut.

Why did he say _ that? _

“Okay. Yes.”

Why did  _ she _ say that?

There was a fumble, as Pidge found ground, staring up towards Lance. He was taller than usual, this close. Her heart hammered hard in her chest. There was something giddy about it, Pidge decided, as her hands fumbled awkwardly to catch his. His hands were soft. He smelled really, really nice-- that unmistakable musky peppermint.

He bent down to her level. Pidge was, for the most part, extremely nervous.

After all, it was her first kiss. Technically. Again.

“I can’t believe my first kiss was with you,” Pidge managed to say.

Lance snorted, and before Pidge could continue, his lips were touching hers.

And it was gentle and soft and only a few seconds long. Her hands had dropped from his to catch his forearms, squeezing in earnest.

She liked this, she decided, when Lance parted for a second to place hands on her hips. She stood on her toes, one second. He was smiling-- she found herself grinning too. A giggle rumbled out from her mouth.

“Lance!”

They split apart at the suddeness of Coran’s voice, and Lance stepped away to shout a reply to the Altean, before glancing back at Pidge.

“So both of your first kisses were with me.”

She socked him in the stomach, soft, ignoring the pigmentation in her cheeks, the way her heart was beating.

“Go away and clean some floors already.”

“Already on my way out,” and he was, walking backwards through her door, lifting his hand in a wave. “I’ll be seeing you around, right? Not going anywhere?”

And Pidge found herself grinning his way, a hand raising to wave him off.

“Never again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever just.... get unsatisfied lol. this was really, REALLY hard to write guys :"") had to find that balance between sad and hurt and making it end cute... not sure if i did it the way i wanted to, lol
> 
> NEXT TIME: pidge and lance play games


	8. The Art of Asking Questions and Getting More than a Simple Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff chapter? fluff chapter.  
> i hope it makes you smile.

_“Any eights?”_

_“Go fish.”_

_Hunk let out a groan at Lance, leaning forward to draw another card from the deck in front of the pair. “Dude, I’m convinced you’re just lying to me.”_

_“Sorry, buddy. But I, Lance McClain, am no liar.”_

_“Debatable,” Pidge quipped, waltzing into the dining hall, laptop balanced in one hand, headset draped around her neck. “Any of you guys seen Allura? I wanted to show her Minesweeper.”_

_“Minesweeper. Pidge, you’re dead to me.” Hunk said to the girl as she came around to his side, glancing over the edge of her frames to read his cards._

_“What? It’s a classic.”_

_“You know what else is a classic? Galaga. It’s also admiringly relevant.”_

_“Are you implying that Voltron’s kind of like, a cooler lion robot version of Galaga? Any threes?” Lance asked from his side, looking at the two over the top of his cards._

_“Go fish. It’s one hundred percent what I’m implying. Any nines?”_

_“Go fish.”_

_Pidge looked between the two, catching Lance’s eye. She threw him a grin, raising her arm to wave at him. No, wait, there was something strange about the way she was waving, curling and uncurling her fingers--_

_Oh._

_Lance took a look down at his cards. Yes._

_Pidge was a damn angel._

_“Any fives?” Lance asked, testing the waters. Hunk let out a sigh, forking over the card._

_“We should program our own version of Galaga,” Pidge said as Lance set the pair of cards in front of him. “Would it be wrong to just call it Galra?”_

_She had raised her hand to push her glasses up, one finger on the bridge of her nose. She tapped it a couple of times._

_“A little bit,” Lance said, stifling a grin. “Any ones?”_

_“Dude.” Hunk just said, sliding over two cards. He was down to three. Lance looked expectantly towards Pidge, who was desperately avoiding laughter._

_She gave him a peace sign. Lance looked down, then back up at her. No dice._

_Flashed a wave, then tapped the bridge of her glasses again._

_“Sixes?”_

_“I hate you.”_

_“Really? Because I like me. Pidge, you like me, right?”_

_Pidge grinned. “Obviously.”_

_“Ew, to this entire situation. Can you just lose already, Lance?”_

_“No way! I’m on a roll.”_

_He shot Pidge a glance. A grin. His first mistake. Hunk exchanged looks between the two, suddenly realizing just how close Pidge was standing to him. He let out a gasp._

_“You--” he pointed at Lance, who gave him a manic smile. “A-and_ you!” _A finger towards Pidge, who placed a hand over her mouth, snorting._

_“Took you long enough,” Pidge said. Hunk frowned, whipping his head around to Lance again._

_“You. You’re the biggest liar of the century. And dead to me. Deader than Pidge is for making Allura play Minesweeper.”_

_“Hunk, please. I am no liar. Just a dirty, dirty cheat.”_

_Hunk let out a groan, placing his head on the table. “I’m not fond of this Bonnie and Clyde act you two have developed. And also, we are_ never _playing Go Fish again. Ever.”_

_Pidge raised five fingers, then two, and Lance took the moment to blow her a kiss._

_“Fine, but let’s finish our last game on a high note, shall we?”_

_“Ugh.”_

_“Any sevens?”_

_“UGH.”_

 

“Pop quiz time! What’s my favorite season?”

“Summer. I don’t have to be your girlfriend to know that.”

Lance propped himself up on one elbow to scrutinize the other, who was busying herself with the assortment of gadgets and equipment on the table in the Green Lion’s hangar. Pidge wanted to get a better look at everything, construct and reconstruct and do whatever nerdy things her little heart desired. Lance got to tag along, of course. They had a lot of catching up to do. It wasn’t Lance’s first idea to quiz Pidge--quizzes weren’t his favorite thing, especially the pop kind-- but he figured this was a lot easier than just telling her.

After all, Pidge wanted a fresh start. And no old anecdote would be fresh.

Lance let out a hum, staring down the girl’s back, listening to the tapping of fingers against a keyboard.

“Favorite space movie?”

“Wall-E.”

“Wrong. Alien.”

Pidge let out a snort. “Sure. And mine is 2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“What makes you so sure I love Wall-E?”

“Honestly? You made Hunk and I watch it with you like ten times. And you cried, every single time.”

“Wow, you remember all of that but not our first real da--”

“Ahpupup.” Pidge turned around, placing her fingers over Lance’s mouth. She stared down at him, a twinkle in her eye, a small smile on her face. For just a second, Lance got lost in her gaze, feeling the world around him shift, the only thing in the universe was her. Genuinely her.

“Fresh start,” she said, quietly.

Lance cleared his throat, feeling gravity working around him again. “Fresh start.”

Pidge lifted her hand from his lips, turning back to her laptop, furiously typing away again while Lance sat quietly, urging his heart to slow its pace.

“Next question.”

“Uh, right,” Lance blinked, continuing to stare at her back. “My opinion on space goo.”

Pidge shrugged. “Is it perchance the same as mine?”

“Which is?”

“That it needs a little more salt.”

Lance stifled a laugh, pushing himself out of his position on the floor, sitting up now, still behind the shorter. A devious, devious plan began to formulate in his head.

“Okay. Next question.”

“Just how long is this pop quiz?”

“Longish. Anyway,” Lance began, clasping his hands together. “Where, my dear Pidge, do you think I’m ticklish?”

Pidge stopped her work, hands barely grazing the keys. Her eyes flitted, briefly, to steal a glance at Lance, who was watching her with a goofy grin on his face. Her eyebrows knit together.

“Suspicious question.”

“Not an answer.”

She dropped her gaze, focusing again on the blue glow of her laptop. “I don’t know. Armpits, maybe?”

“Nope. The mighty, intelligent Pidge got it wrong.”

“Go figure. Are you going to tell me the answer?”

“Ribs.”

“Ri--?”

Pidge had braced herself prior, of course, having caught wind of the boy’s plot the second he asked his question. Yet nothing really could protect her once his fingers dug into her upper sides, causing her to let out a surprised and horrified gasp, trailed by laughter. She writhed under the attack, forcing an elbow out at him.

“Lance,” Pidge gasped between laughter, desperately trying to escape his clutches. “Stop, dude! I’m b-busy!”

“Busy being a nerd,” Lance quipped before his fingers laced upwards into her armpits, igniting more peals of laughter out of the girl.

“I... can’t… breathe…!”

Another elbow was thrown his way, this time connecting with his chest. Lance stopped his assault, withdrawing his hands and laughing. Pidge let out a breath, relief washing over her. She flopped backwards, expecting to land on the floor of the hangar, unexpecting knobby knees hitting her lower back, her head landing against his chest. Pidge glanced up into Lance’s face, his shit-eating grin all but gone, replaced by a soft redness in his face, eyes wide in surprise.

“Hi,” she said.

It didn’t take long for Lance to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, and Pidge noticed the new sparkle in his eyes, and she stifled a grin when he spoke.

“So.” There it was, the flirtatious tone in his voice. “You’ve fallen for me.”

“I guess so.”

The stupid grin on Lance’s face dropped momentarily, surprised at the response. “Er, better one. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because--”

“Are all your pickup lines right now going to involve falling? ‘Cause I think you’re a pretty good catch.”

That got him. Pidge faltered when Lance began to laugh, feeling his chest rumble under her head. It was a nice rumble to match a nice laugh. She liked it a lot. But really, of course she liked his laugh. She’s been hearing it for a long time at the Garrison, but this was a different kind of like in the great big context of all things romantic. At least, she thought so, because she was pretty sure before when Lance laughed at school, her heart wasn’t stuttering so hard and her face had never felt so red and she had never felt so pleased with herself for making him laugh.

And Pidge was very, very pleased with herself, because she liked hearing Lance laugh. She liked making him laugh. She liked him.

She liked him.

The thought hit her like a bullet. Up until this point, it had always been a series of unanswered questions and insecurity. A flurry of ‘did we’ and ‘what ifs’ and ‘buts.’ And when she told him, days before, that she wanted a do-over, that she wanted to try be his girlfriend, she was still unsure of whatever her feelings were for him. If she remembered, she wouldn’t know what to make of him, and she never did know what to make of the way her stomach flipped and flopped when she remembered their kisses before, or the kiss they had shared the other morning. There was still that insecurity that she was forcing herself to like Lance because, once upon a time, she genuinely had.

She liked him.

She never thought that’d be so reassuring to realize. A gentle prodding forward from herself, a gentle encouragement that she was allowed to feel things for him. And deep down a voice said, “it’s because he makes the most sense.”

And this time, that voice was less of an insecurity as it had been before, no longer was it a nagging thought that tried to convince her and force romantic feelings for Lance onto her, but an affirmation. A simple truth. Lance _did_ make the most sense. And not in the way that she forced herself to think. No, not at all was it because they knew each other longer, because they already had a connection, because Lance was her fighter pilot and she was his communications officer.

But because it had always been him.

And Pidge had been too wrapped up in her thoughts, because Lance was poking her cheek, and she blinked hard, not realizing how long she had been lying there in his lap, face staring up into his.

“Huh?” She finally managed, registering that Lance was talking to her.

“Just asking if you’re alright. I mean, you’ve been staring at me this whole time. And don’t get me wrong, Pidge, I _know_ I’m beautiful and it’s difficult not to stare, but it was getting a little bit weird.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“When aren’t you?” She raised a hand to smack gently against his knee. “About what?”

“About how easy this is, I guess.”

Lance’s features softened, and he sunk his head down to bump their noses. “Elaborate.”

“Honestly? I was pretty unsure how’d this all go. I was worried that I was forcing myself to like you again because you said so.”

Lance was silent for a long time, and Pidge wondered what he was thinking. Slowly, his hands snaked themselves around her waist. There was something tense in the way he held her, like he was holding in baited breath, curious and terrified of what was supposed to come next.

He smelled good, musky and peppermint.

“Are you worried still?”

“No.”

The tension in his grip ceased, and Lance fell quiet again.

“Do I like pineapples on my pizza?” He finally said.

“Yes, you and Hunk both. Just wondering, do the others like pineapple on pizza? Am I alone on this ship with my indifferent opinion to tropical pizza toppings?”

“Woah there, cowboy, I’m asking the questions here. And side note, you are a heathen to humanity.”

“Do you think Alteans even know what pineapples are?”

“No. Absolutely not. We are not going there.”

“We should ask.”

“We can pretend we did, and instead sit here and move on. Now, favorite subject?”

“Art. Do you think Altea has an equivalent to pineapple on pizza?”

“Are you seriously still on this?”

“Yeah. I don’t remember if they do or not.”

“You suck at this game.”

And they went on like that, for what seemed like forever, bouncing back and forth. A question here, an answer there. Talking about everything and nothing all at once. Warmth growing in their chests, simultaneously. It was like a dance, Pidge was realizing. A dance she once knew the steps to, and although the music was foggy and hard to remember, the rhythm was still there.

And she liked it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:  
> -everyone gets a chance to talk to pidge  
> -especially lance  
> -that one's not a fun talk  
> -really tho are any of them lol  
> -i'm really intensely bad at summaries
> 
> thank you guys so much for reading!! 100+ kudos!!! 1300+ hits!!! ahhhh!!! AAAAHHHH!!!! AND WE'RE STILL NOT DONE AAAAHHHHH!!!! THANK YOUUUUU!!!!!! LOTS OF HUGS AND MUAH MUAH


	9. And Maybe All We Need is Someone to Hold Our Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school's kicking my butt && i just started work but it's here! happy week-after-pidgance-week! :P  
> thank you all for your patience and love <3 i hope it's been worth the wait.  
>  **please read the a/n at the bottom!**

“You’re slouching again.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Shiro placed his hands on Pidge’s shoulder, straightening the girl’s posture like she was a posable doll, frowning when they heard something in her back pop. He released her, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder as the pair continued to walk around the castle. Pidge rubbed her elbow, frowning at him.

“Told you so.” Shiro quipped, walking a bit ahead. “So around this corner and in this room are the weird memory storage pods. We tried something with this Galra, Sendak. It, uh…”

“Didn’t work out as planned?” Pidge finished for the older, who gave a soft laugh as the two entered the room.

“Yeah, basically. Do you remember that day?”

Pidge shrugged, looking around the darkened room, the empty pods. “I remember floating. Like the ship’s gravity was turned off.”

“Well, I can confirm that that definitely happened,” Shiro gave the room one last look around, wincing a moment at the empty pod on the farthest right, before turning around and exiting. “Anything else?”

“About that day? Uh, no.”

“No, doesn’t have to just be about that day. Just wanted to know your progress in gaining your memory back.”

“Oh. Then I’m remembering some things. Like a giant sloth and Green talking to me. I think I’m also remembering a few training moves you showed me.” Pidge admitted to the older, smiling up at him.

It had been a few weeks since Pidge had emerged from the stasis pod, and although she didn’t remember everything, her memory was coming back piece by piece. It was both extremely reassuring for everyone on board, and extremely aggravating for Pidge. She was glad that she was beginning to remember more, sure, but the way the team was doting on her every wake to see how much she really did remember, well… It was less than comforting to know they cared that much. She would’ve, in fact, picked the word “annoying.”

“And Lance?”

The question came as a surprise to Pidge, who furrowed her brow at the paladin.

“What about him?”

“He seems more like himself these days. I just figured, you know, you guys…”

“Worked things out. Hey, Shiro, do I always finish your lagging thoughts?”

Shiro let out a snort, ruffling Pidge’s hair. “Not gonna lie. I’m convinced you just read what I’m thinking.”

It was Pidge’s turn to laugh. “Seems like it. What do you mean by that, by the way? About Lance and I working things out?”

“Oh, nothing, really. It was just really hard on him after… you know. I mean, it was hard on all of us, but, man, it really crushed him. So it’s just nice to see him… happier.”

Pidge stared up at Shiro, her lips forming a thin line.

_ It crushed him. _

Lance, in the last few weeks, never really brought up the accident. Not since the night Pidge went to apologize to him. He always treated the issue so frivolously, as if Pidge almost-dying was nothing but a common occurrence. She never thought to ask about it more.

Come to think of it, she never asked at all.

Pidge stopped walking, turning a hard 180-degrees and pacing down the corridor.

“Pidge? What--where are you going?” Shiro suddenly called.

“I just… I-I gotta go. I’ll catch you later, okay?” A half-hearted response. As was her style.

Pidge didn’t stop to hear Shiro respond.

 

_ “Okay. Plan.” Pidge said, craning her neck to look down the hall. “It looks like, according to those blueprints we found, this hallway is just a really big circle. So if I go left and you go right, we should be able to meet again on the other side in about ten minutes.” _

_ “Not an expert on this stuff, Pidge, but I don’t think splitting up is a good idea. Ever.” _

_ Pidge glanced over her shoulder to frown at Lance, raising her bayard. _

_ “Yeah, but we don’t have much of another option, do we?” _

_ “Actually,” Lance pulled up the holographic map on his arm, pointing down the center hall that divided the circle in half. “We do. Just use this middle hall. It’ll be faster, and we might encounter a lot less sentries to reach the control room on the other side.” _

_ “But that’s the main hallway,” Pidge stated, matter-of-factly. “There’ll be more security.” _

_ “But there’s two of us.” _

_ “Against maybe twenty of them.” _

_ “But with your plan, we might be facing twenty each. AKA, forty.” _

_ Pidge went silent for a moment, turning to look down the hall again. She glanced back at him, frowning. _

_ “I hate when you’re right.” _

_ “Oh, you must hate me quite a lot then, don’t you Pidge?” _

_ “Ah, absolutely. I despise you, Lance. I can probably list a hundred reasons. A thousand, in fact, in the time it takes us to reach the control room.” _

_ “Well then,” Lance gave the girl a gentle push forward down the hall. “Get listing.” _

_ “Your pick-up lines are terrible.” _

_ “You think they’re funny.” _

_ “I laugh out of pity.” _

_ They looked, quickly, up and down the hall before darting into the nearest cranny in the great hallway. _

_ “Your eyes are just too sparkly,” Pidge said after a tick of silence, brandishing her bayard as she squatted, moving slowly down the hall. “Everytime I look at you I think I’m in one of those cheesy shoujo anime.” _

_ “Sailor Moon, perhaps? Or Shugo Chara?” _

_ “Number three, you watch anime.” _

_ “They’re classics, Pidge.” _

_ “Number four, you think Shugo Chara’s a classic.” _

_ “I refuse to argue with you about this on a Galra ship. Five?” _

_ Pidge slapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him as a pair of sentries stomped by. They waited, one, two ticks, before Pidge released her grip. _

_ “You talk too much.” _

_ “You love the sound of my voice.” _

_ Pidge didn’t retaliate, furthering her movements down the hall, Lance on her heels. Dodging, weaving, dropping low to avoid being seen by the sentries. Lance counted maybe twelve. Pidge would’ve argued there were more. _

_ “The control room’s right there,” Lance said, looking a few feet ahead of them at the double doors to the room they needed. “You’ve only given me five reasons you despise me, Pidge. Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” _

_ Pidge snorted. “The alternative?” _

_ “You liiiike me.” _

_ Pidge went silent for a moment, looking up and down the hall again, watching for sentries. She nodded, turning to look Lance in the eye, her expression grave. It was an intimidating look. _

_ “Yeah. Six. I like you.” _

_ Lance stamped away the stammering in his heart and redness in his face with a cocky smirk, leaning down to get as close to Pidge’s face as possible. _

_ “I always knew you had a crush on me.” _

_ Pidge’s serious face began to falter a bit, the inklings of a smile forming on the corners of her lips. _

_ “Not the time. Galra control room first, bad flirting second.” _

_ “Oh, but Pidge. We’re alone. On a Galra ship. Doesn’t that just scream romantic?” _

_ She was desperate to not smile or laugh in such a tense situation. “If this is your idea of a date, it’s terrible.” _

_ “Ah, this was, actually, your idea.” _

_ “Don’t push it,” she let out a snort, standing up quickly. “Control roo--” _

Crack.

_ The hall filled with red. _

 

“Lance, can we… can we talk?”

The voice broke the boy out of his stupor. He glanced up from the pad of paper in his hands at the girl who stood in his door, wringing her hands together. He looked back down at the pad of paper. Circles, divided in half. Drawn, all over the pad, absently. He shoved the pad under his bed, ignoring the way his hand trembled as he did, hoping if he didn’t pay attention, Pidge wouldn’t either.

“Sure thing, my beautiful, fresh out of the oven piece of--”

“Please, for all that is good and holy in this world, do not finish that sentence.”

“Ah, don’t feel like being compared to pan dulce today?”

Pidge took a step into the room, admiring how Lance was able to keep his clutter away, keep his room so pristine. “Uh, not really. Or any dessert, for that matter.”

Lance felt his chest tighten, and he got up out of bed to go to her, placing his hands gently on her upper arms, rubbing up and down. She was avoiding his gaze. He tried to avoid the tremors in his hands.

“Pidge, what’s up?”

“Are you okay, Lance?”

The question took him by surprise, and the soft, sweet motions of his hands stopped, resting near her elbows. He pulled back, slowly, shoving his fists deep into his pockets.

“What do you mean?”

Pidge shrugged, taking a step backwards to his bed, sinking into the mattress when she sat. “We never talk about it. What happened to me, I mean. The accident. Incident. Whatever.”

Lance felt his knees begin to buckle, his heart constrict painfully. He took a hard seat next to her, quiet.

“We don’t.”

“Like, whenever we bring it up, we just… never talk about it. And it feels sucky. Like, I obviously… I don’t remember what happened, you know? But you do. And I wanna know, I guess.”

“This doesn’t sound like moving forward at all, Pidge.”

Pidge let out a hard sigh. “Talking about it-- talking about what happened, Lance, it isn’t about  _ me _ trying to move forward.”

The second half of that was unspoken, but Lance, unfortunately, got what she was trying to imply.

Lance let out a shaky breath.

She didn’t remember.

But he did.

He remembered the exact moment when the shot rang out. The exact moment her expression faltered, the moment there was blood splattered in gorish patterns on the walls of that Galra ship, and how quickly her suit began to change color--

Lance grabbed at his shirt, leaning forward, the world pitching to and fro like it was trying to shake him off.

He couldn’t breathe. Like the airlock opened and was hurtling him to an icy death in space. He wished he could feel cold, actually, not this uncomfortable heat that was threatening to swallow him.

A soft voice called out to him.

A hand anchored him back to reality.

“Lance. Deep, long breaths. I’m going to count, okay? One…”

He had a hard time following along at first, and sometimes he wondered when whoever was anchoring him down would just let him go. Drop his hand. Give up, because Lance wasn’t breathing right and didn’t feel right and everything was warm and dry and he just couldn’t breathe and it’d be easier to give up, obviously.

He thought he was drowning, when the voice warped again and he couldn’t hear anything except his own voice.

_ She’s dying. _

_ She’s dying and there’s so many Galra and I can’t carry her. _

_ She’s dying and when she does it’s my fault, right? _

“Lance.”

Again. A few more times. Deep, long breaths. Someone was counting. He was listening.

And Lance found that he could breathe, again.

Deep long breaths.

One, two, three, four.

Pidge was still holding his hand.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

Lance twisted his head to look at Pidge, whose gaze was focused on their fingers, intertwined.

“I didn’t realize it hurt you so much.”

“It’s…” Lance’s voice sounded foreign in his own ears. He cleared his throat. “No. I mean… It did. It really sucked. I thought I was going to lose you.”

Her grip tightened, and she leaned into his shoulder, chewing on her lip.

“But you didn’t. I’m right here.”

“There was a lot of blood. Like, all over. I don’t know what kind of weapon it was but… they really, really got you.”

“Before that?”

“We were talking.”

“About?”

“You were… listing reasons why you hated me.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I can’t remember. Were there a lot?”

“You got to six. Out of a thousand.”

“Can you tell me them?”

Lance rattled off the list, pausing to look down at Pidge every now and again, who smiled and nodded affirmations after each one. He stopped after five.

“And six?”

“I don’t think I have to say it.”

Pidge rolled her eyes.

They fell back into silence.

“When you got me back on the ship…”

“I never left the med bay.”

Pidge gave him a curious look. “You… stayed the entire time?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t want you to wake up, alone. Allura said it’d be two weeks, but you know, you can be pretty unpredictable and might surprise us early.”

Pidge gave a curt nod. “And you just waited for me to wake up, huh?”

“Was I supposed to be doing something else?”

“I don’t know. You shouldn’t put life on hold for me.”

“You were dying.”

“But I’m  _ alive, _ Lance. I’m alive, right here, right now,” her hand fumbled a bit to grab his free hand, pulling his arm until he was facing her front. She was frowning at him, concern in her eyes, hands trembling as she held his. “You blamed yourself for it, right? The entire accident?”

He couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. A slow nod.

“I did.”

“But you saved me. You saved my life.”

“I could’ve prevented it, though--”

“Don’t. Don’t get so caught up in what-ifs. It’ll… it’ll start to eat at you, and make things harder because all you can think about is the what-ifs. A-and I know… I know it hurts. It hurts because you wish things were different, right?”

He paused.

“Yes.”

She looked up again, slow, hands still shaking.

“Remember how I told you I didn’t want to live in the past? How I want to move forward because it’d make me stronger?”

“I do,” Lance responded slowly, feeling his grip tighten on Pidge’s hands.

“Can you do the same?”

“The same--?”

“Move forward, Lance. Be strong. A-and if you ever feel like you’re slipping or something, I promise I’ll help you back up, okay? And I don’t even have to ask you to do the same for me because I already know you will. But I’m really here for you. I’m here, okay?”

They were beginning to lose feeling in their fingers, from holding each other too tight.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, it appears i've added... an end chapter.   
> yeah! there's one more chapter! :")  
> am i sad to see this story come to an end?? yeah haha  
> but i don't think i can drag it on. i've thought a lot about it, and i think i'm content. there was a lot i wanted to include-- but it really would've gotten dull, hahaha! i hope the last chapter satisfies you.  
> thank you for reading


	10. Soft and Sweet and Almost to the Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> college sucks, amiright  
> but this is done. we're finally, finally done. haha yay?!?!  
> i hope you enjoy.

“Okay Pidge. Just remember, if you start losing control, trust in your lion.”

“Gotcha. Trust in my lion.”

“And if you feel even a little sick to your stomach, just say so.”

“Okay.”

“Honestly, if you think it’s just too much right now, let me know and--”

_ “Shiro.  _ I’ll be fine.”

Shiro scrutinized the teenage girl, arms folded over his chest, frowning down at her. Pidge rolled her eyes at the gesture, then focused her gaze on the Green Lion, who sat poised and ready to fly, ready to welcome Pidge back with open arms. (Open paws?)

“I know you will.”

That was the Shiro she remembered speaking.

She stepped up to it, flinching a little when the lion moved, lowering its head to her, eyes glowing, mouth widening to invite her inside. Pidge turned back to Shiro, whose expression felt ten times more anxious than she did. They had been talking about this day, the day when Pidge would get back into her lion, for the last week. They were all eager to see her try again, especially Allura and Coran. Shiro gave her a thumbs up, a soft smile.

She inhaled, exhaled.

And stepped inside.

It was like how she remembered it, to an extent. Although her mind was still fuzzy, although her past was still cloudy and hard to reach, she remembered the cockpit. There was a sort of earthy, grassy smell inside the lion. Chlorophyll. Lance’s lion had a similar effect, but of seawater; she remembered that too.

She rolled her shoulders, almost forgetting that she was in full suit. Pidge hadn’t donned the paladin armor in the last month; not frequently, at least. It felt strangely off to wear it, like it wasn’t hers. That and, she noticed, Lance would wince and look away whenever she was wearing it.

_ “Have something against my armor?” she asked, the first time she noticed. It was jokingly, of course, an attempt to antagonize her boyfriend. He had laughed, taking her hand and squeezing it. _

_ “Sorry. I can’t help but see that fight. Over and over.” _

_ “It’s just armor, Lance. Don’t give it power to hurt you.” _

_ He wrapped his arms around her. Warm. Musky and peppermint. _

_ “I won’t.” _

She sat down heavy in the single pilot’s chair, looking out over the hangar. Inhale, exhale.

“You doing okay?” Shiro’s voice came in through her comm, startling her. Pidge nodded, before remembering he couldn’t hear her nod.

“Yeah. Just taking it all in.”

“Okay. The doors should open once you try to fly out, if you want to try.”

“We’re not on a planet, though. Wouldn’t I just… fly into space?”

“Why are you asking? Scared?”

“A little worried, yeah. I mean, would, like, Galra see me?”

“Nope. We’ve scanned the sector.”

“Neato. Okay. I’ll fly out then. Are you gonna get in your lion and watch me?”

“Don’t have to.”

Pidge let out a huff at him, to which Shiro only laughed.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

It took a few minutes for Pidge to get her bearings, to wait for Shiro to leave the hangar just in case he’d get blown out into space with her.

The lion seemed to have a better handle on things, urging her to grab handles, push and pull, press buttons. It was training her, to an extent, and in no time Pidge felt like the pilot. Like she was meant to sit in that chair.

There was a moment of weightlessness, when she pushed the lion into drive. Her body seemed to lift from the chair, suspended in gravity for just a second, then back in place. The world around her was black, sprinkled with dots of twinkling white.

Space.

Pidge forgot to breathe.

“Hey, Katie!”

The voice came over her comm, and Pidge blinked, licking her lips. She lifted a hand to her face, to make sure she was real.

“Uhm. Yeah?”

There was blue in her peripheral. Her eyes lifted to see the face of a lion, much like hers, but painted blue.

Lance.

“Just making sure you weren’t barfing all over the controls.”

She let out a laugh. “Nah, I was actually trying to find the laser gun controls. I’ve already found a target, so I want to test ‘em.”

“Target? What the heck are you… oh. _ Wow.  _ I see how it is.”

“I was wondering how fast you’d catch on.”

“Oh, you are so lucky we aren’t in the same room right now. I have no qualms about taking you down.”

“Confident, are we?”

“Obviously. Speaking of confidence, I’m very confident I can race you around the ship. And win.”

“Cool. See you on the other side.”

She zipped away without another word, leaving Lance blubbering in shock before he, too, sped after her in his lion. She had suspicions her lion was smaller, faster.

“That was cheating.”

“Didn’t realize there were rules.”

“Obviously there are. You know what? Next time we’ll have Hunk referee.”

“You’re saying that because you’re losing.”

“Challenging words from someone who’s about to eat my space dust.”

There was a rumble, and Pidge’s eyebrows raised at the flash of blue speeding around her, nimbly leaping around the side of the castleship. Pidge grinned.

“You’ve definitely gotten better at piloting.”

“I’m going to pretend that was a complete compliment and not at all making fun of me.”

“Sweet job threading that needle, _ tailor.” _

“I’m hanging up.”

She snorted, urging the lion forward to catch up with Lance, leaping over his lion and turning quickly around the final corner. There was an insult thrown to her, but Pidge hardly noticed it. She won.

“You suck.”

Fair and square.

“What’s my prize for kicking your ass?”

“Besides gloating rights?”

“That can only feed my ego for so long.”

A laugh from his end. “Okay. The next time we’ve landed on a nice planet, I’ll take you on a date.”

Pidge felt warmth growing in her chest. “Where?”

“Dunno. We can find a weird alien restaurant and hopefully not die from alien food.”

“I like the sound of that. Nothing too fancy, okay? I didn’t bring a dress.”

“Ew, you act like I know how to do dates. Space food trucks are more my speed.”

“You think they have fusion food trucks? Like Korean-Mex taco trucks?”

“You sure know how to make a guy swoon.”

Pidge slumped back into her seat, a small smile on her face, staring out at the blue lion across from her. She wondered if Lance was staring her way, too. There was silence over the comm for a moment.

“Can we go back in?” Lance suddenly asked. Pidge nodded, before catching herself.

“Yeah. I’m getting tired out here. But this was fun.”

“I’m glad you had fun. Now, uh, how the heck do we get back in?”

It took them a few minutes to get back into their respected hangars, and Pidge’s legs felt like jelly when the lion landed and she stepped out of it's mouth. Her hand went to pat one of it’s cold paws in appreciation.

She pulled the helmet off, tugging the elastic that pulled her hair back out of her caramel locks. Pidge thought about a haircut, again, but there was something comforting in her hair growing out again. Like she was feeling more herself. More of the person she used to be.

She found Lance halfway to his hangar, where they agreed to meet in the middle. He was twirling his helmet in his hands; hers was tucked under her arm like a basketball, pressed into the curve of her hip. She raised her free hand in a wave. He gave a two fingered salute.

“You look terrible,” he quipped, and she rolled her eyes.

“So do you.”

A snort. “What do you want to do now?”

Pidge opened her mouth to answer, but felt her eyelids grow heavy, as if the ship’s gravity was weighing on her every muscle.

“Honestly? Nap.”

“Good idea.”

Lance had swiped her helmet out from her arm, balancing their two helmets together in his hands. He walked straight ahead, urging the girl to follow. She did, slow going. They stopped by her room first, as it was the closest, and Lance gave her a quick, unfocused kiss on the cheek before leaving her to change out of his armor.

Pidge figured she’d dump it too.

It was a little tricky to put on and take off when you just wanted to lay down and sleep, but after a bit of a struggle with the shoulderpads, Pidge was standing in her room half dressed, glaring at the pile of armor that now sat on her floor. She pulled on sweats, a tank top. Her eyes fell on her reflection in the mirror, once, twice.

She ignored the old scarring. Or tried to, at least. Getting dressed and undressed had become the roughest part of her routine, what with angry, lightning-like scars reminding her of the things she couldn’t remember.

If it wasn’t for spite, Pidge was sure she’d be too apathetic, too broken to look at them.

But spite was kind of all she had going for her.

A knock on her door made Pidge turn, telling Lance he could come in as she attempted to kick the armor to a corner of the room with her toes and put her windbreaker on at the same time.

“Are you trying to clean this pigsty up right now?”

“Maybe. I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“Really? Cause I think you’re just making an even bigger mess.”

She rolled her eyes at him, as she often found herself doing. Lance was grinning at her, stepping into the room and walking to her, hands outstretched to catch hers.

He gave her hands a squeeze, pulling her closer to him.

“You really are tired.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No way. You did awesome in your lion, by the way.”

“Thanks. I think I’ve really got a handle on it. I mean, I know it’s been a day, but I was wondering if it’d be hard to keep up with you guys. Doesn’t look like it.”

“Please. None of us were worried about that.”

Pidge let out a sigh, leaning into Lance, her forehead pressing into his chest. “Yeah. I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Want to lie down?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

They navigated the small space, landing unceremoniously on the mattress of her bed. Lance let out a grunt, rolling over and withdrawing a book from beneath the covers, shooting Pidge a look.

“Reading in the dark’s terrible for your eyesight.”

“It’s almost like I’m wearing glasses.”

“Non prescription.”

“Not difficult to prescribe.”

Lance pursed his lips for a moment, before giving her a warm smile, handing the book to Pidge for her to neatly deposit on the mountains of other books and papers on her desk. Lance often wondered how she could live like this (she called it “organized chaos” once).

Pidge had rolled over, back facing him. She must’ve been really tired, from getting into the pilot’s seat for the first time in a long time. Lance was sure she’d be bothered all about it during dinner later. He could imagine the questions from Allura, the excitement bubbling from the Altean princess as Shiro tries to calm her to keep from overwhelming Pidge. Lance remembered what Shiro said earlier to him, when it came to getting Pidge comfortable in her lion again.

_ “I want you to be out there with her.” _

_ “Me?” Lance had asked, gaping at the older. Shiro snorted. _

_ “Close your mouth before you start catching flies, Lance.” _

_ Lance had almost bit his tongue as he did so, hand flying up to catch his jaw. “Sorry. I’m just kind of shocked, is all. Why not you?” _

_ “I could go, yeah. But I think it’d be better if you do. You’ll make it fun. Not stress her.” _

_ “Ah, you admit I’m fun.” _

_ Shiro rolled his eyes, taking backward steps down the hall, a smile on his face. “Be out there at fifteen-hundred sharp, cadet.” _

It was something else, really, to get Shiro’s approval to do something fun. Lance let out a sigh, carefully placing a hand on her side, hoping she wasn’t awake.

“If you’re trying to cuddle, you could at least come closer.”

Hopes dashed.

“Aren’t you trying to nap?”

“Yeah. I’m just thinking too much. Hard to sleep when there’s a lot on the mind.”

“Mm.”

Lance stared hard at her back, the back of her head. He rolled his hand over her side, bringing her closer to him. Warm. He never realized how much he craved warmth until her.

“Can I ask you something?” Lance whispered. Pidge shifted, turning her head to peer at him.

“Okay.”

“Can I see the scars? From that day? You can say no.”

Pidge turned around again, facing away from him. Silent, pondering for a few moments. Lance wondered, quietly, if he was stepping over a boundary he didn’t know was set. But Lance had a curse of being blunt, and curiosity that failed to quit.

“Why?” Pidge finally said. Her tone wasn’t angry or flat, like he was expecting. It was soft, genuinely curious. The same voice Pidge used when asking Coran and Allura about Altea, the same voice she used when looking at constellations, the same voice she used when asking about their past.

“I think it’d help with the whole coping thing.”

“Huh. Never thought of that.”

“Okay. My turn to ask. Why?”

“Because every time I look at them, I just feel like a broken machine. I still work. But not the same way I used to.”

Lance didn’t realize, until that second, that she was holding his hand. He gave her hand a squeeze.

“Maybe you’re not looking at them right.”

She squeezed back. Silent, for a moment.

“Tell me if you see something different.”

She sat up slow, uneager to speed up the process of taking her windbreaker off. It had become more and more of a security blanket, now instead of hiding femininity it hid angry, ugly lightning bolts that dashed her skin. Pidge didn’t know how Lance would react to them-- he was prone to terror, panic at any memory of that day. But he wanted to see them, she figured that had to count towards something. Some form of healing. Some form of moving forward.

Lance’s breathing had hitched, once the windbreaker had fallen from her shoulders and peeled from her back. Her top was just a spaghetti-strap, nothing revealing about it, not like there was anything seductive about the way she removed her jacket to show the scars. They were scars, after all.

Pidge fell back into the mattress, still facing away from Lance, windbreaker bundled in her arms. Lance wasn’t saying anything. Pidge wondered what kind of expression he was making. Was it pain? Disbelief? Anger?

Fingers ghosted on her neck. She froze at the touch.

He was tracing them.

It was slow, barely a touch, at first. Index finger, deliberate and calculated, tracing the thickest of the strikes of lightning down from the nape of her neck to the upper hem of her top. Lifted, then again, this time two fingers, following different paths. Shoulder, shoulder blades, biceps. His hand ran up and down the lines a few times, silent, gentle. A stop now and then to run through her hair, find the root of the scar that Pidge never dared to look for. Pidge didn’t know how long they laid like this, tracing wounds that never did heal for either of them.

She figured this was how they were healing.

“See anything?”

“I think so.”

“Tell me.”

Lance’s fingers stopped their rhythmic movements against her skin, lifting away. He was shifting, moving. A shadow moved over her, and Pidge moved her head until she was staring up at him, their noses touching.

“I see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are.  
> the end.  
> couple of things before i let you go:  
> -i wasn't sure how i wanted to end this. but i think i'm very satisfied. it's a happy end. a warm end. a "things are looking up" ending. i hope it was okay for you, too!  
> -i am absolutely planning more pidgance fics. i have a couple of ideas i wanna start here soon, so yanno, keep an eye out haha!!  
> thank you guys for joining me on this strange emotional roller coaster. i hope i did my best, and honestly i've loved all your comments and your kudos' and just the overwhelmingly huuuge support i got for this fic && this rarepair!! i am... eternally grateful for your love. i love you!!! <3  
> so, uh,  
> onto the next one?  
> see you next tiiiime <3


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